


‘til death

by waveydnp



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Era (Phandom), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Established Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marriage, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: the one where fetus dnp get married in portugal
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 257
Kudos: 559





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i’ll be doing my best to follow the canon timeline here, but there will be times when mistakes happen (anachronisms, additions/omissions, etc.). i’m okay with that, and would prefer not to be corrected in the comments. thanks! enjoy!

Fucking volcano.

The thing is, Dan thinks, he’s relatively self aware. He knows he’s a bit of a nightmare at the best of times: immature, moody, impulsive, self-hating to a frankly alarming degree. He knows these things are true, but he also knows they coexist within a person who can occasionally be somewhat charming. Kind, polite, gentle. Funny, even, if you catch him at the right time. 

For much of his life he’s felt locked inside his own brain, tormented by a feeling of otherness, alone with only his various idiosyncrasies to keep him company. So he likes to think he knows himself pretty well, even in ways he spent years upon years trying desperately _not_ to know. 

But he’s still surprised when news of a volcano in Portugal makes him cry real, honest to god tears.

Because he’s not alone anymore. He’s so wonderfully, blissfully not alone. Phil gave that to him. Phil gave him a feeling he’d only even been able to fantasize about. Phil gave him love and acceptance and friendship and sex and confidence and courage and - well. He reckons he could go on forever about what Phil’s given him.

That’s what Portugal was meant to be about. Celebrating everything Phil gave to him, and everything Dan tries to give back. It was meant to be about being alone together in a place where no one knew their names or their faces, a place they could go to bed together without triple checking the door was locked, to fuck as loud as they want and fall asleep and wake up and order room service and just _be together_ in a way they can’t get close to in their bedrooms in their parents’ houses.

It was supposed to be about them. Now it’s about a fucking volcano.

He sniffles into the phone while Phil’s listens on the other end. He can’t help it, as much as he’d kill to sound as maddeningly unphased as Phil had when he broke the news. He can’t even speak because he knows if he does, his indignance at the injustice of it all will just rear up stronger.

“It’s alright,” Phil tells him. “We’ll just reschedule.”

“I don’t _want_ to fucking reschedule.”

Phil sounds hurt. “You don’t?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” Dan clarifies, so slowed on the uptake by his childish reaction that he didn’t immediately grasp the reason for the sinking in Phil’s voice. “I fucking hate waiting. We’re always waiting. Our whole relationship is basically waiting. I already packed my fucking suitcase. I—”

“Dan.”

He sniffles aggressively, knowing he has to get himself under control. “What?”

“Come here?”

“What?” This time the question is asked less sulkily and more with genuine curiosity.

“In your car,” Phil says. “Come to me.”

Dan frowns. “What, now?”

“You got something better to do?”

Dan sits up from where he’s leaned back against his headboard and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his jumper. “Obviously fucking not, but it’s nearly ten. It’s dark out.”

“Is that all it takes to keep you away?” Phil teases. “A set sun?”

“Fuck off.” A hint of a smile is starting to play on his lips. “Anyway, my car is a piece of shit that barely runs.”

“If I had a car I’d pick you up, but—”

“Christ, thank fuck you don’t. No offense, but I kind of prefer my boyfriends without horrific, bleeding injuries.”

“Shallow.”

Dan huffs a breath of laughter into the phone. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am. We’re gonna be together this week whether we’re in Portugal or not.”

“At your house?” Dan asks, but he already knows it doesn’t actually matter. If they can’t have Portugal, Phil’s ugly blue and green bedroom will do just fine as a consolation.

“I dunno. Just get here and we’ll figure it out later.”

“Are you gonna tell your parents I’m coming?”

“They’re already in bed.”

“Isn’t it gonna look suspicious if I’m suddenly there in the morning?”

“I’m twenty three years old,” is Phil’s response, and it’s delivered in a surprisingly defensive tone. “I live here too. If I wanna have my boyfriend over, I’m allowed.”

“Right…” Dan says cautiously. “But they don’t actually know that’s what I am.”

Phil is nauseatingly silent.

“Right?” Dan asks, when his stomach starts to clench.

“Right.”

“Phil, what the fuck.”

“What?” His mock ignorance is infuriating.

“Did you come out to your parents and forget to fucking tell me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you acting so weird?” Dan demands.

He can hear Phil breathing right in his ear almost as if they’re actually sharing the same space. Phil clears his throat. “I think they might know. Or… suspect, I guess.”

Dan’s immediate, instinctual reaction is blind terror. His heart seizes painfully in his chest, and it takes him a good twenty seconds to even find enough usable brain cells to form a response. When he does, it’s just a croaked, “Why?”

Phil takes his sweet time answering. “Ever since Christmas, I guess, it feels like… like they’re looking at me a little closer? When I told them about this trip— Portugal, I mean, it’s… I dunno. It’s weird.”

“Weird how?” 

“Just like, I dunno. Little things they say. Like my dad asking if we were gonna share a room. My mum asking asking after you in a way she never does with any of my other mates.”

“Jesus,” Dan mutters. “That’s— why didn’t you tell me?”

Phil’s voice is small and scared when he says, “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Dan hates that. He hates it with the fire of a thousand suns, even more than he hates the idea that Phil’s parents might know what goes on behind their son’s closed bedroom door. “I’m not. You couldn’t.”

“I don’t even know for sure. It’s just a feeling.”

“It’s—” He flicks his fringe out of his eyes angrily, suddenly keyed up and antsy and desperate to escape the feeling of fear poisoning his guts. He wants to tell Phil it’s fine. He wants to _feel_ like it’s fine, but the irrational thoughts are already beginning to take shape. What if the Lesters decide they don’t want to let a pervert like Dan near their son? What if they ring up Dan’s parents and tell them Dan has been corrupting their boy?

He’s a self aware kind of person, Dan is. He knows reality from mental catastrophizing, which is why it’s so infuriating that he can’t shake them right now. 

“It’s really fine, Dan. I promise. If they know, they haven’t said anything. And if they were bothered, they would have said something by now.”

Dan nods, aware that Phil can’t actually see him, but powerless to actually vocalize his acknowledgement of what Phil’s saying. 

“Dan, will you please drive up to me? I wanna hold you. I need you to be here with me.”

“Yeah,” Dan manages to choke out. “Yeah. I’ll get my shit together, just gimme a bit.”

“When mum asks after you, it’s always to see how you are,” Phil says softly. “She likes you. I reckon, you know… Reckon she sees how much happier I’ve been since I started bringing you ‘round.”

Dan starts crying again. 

-

He swaps out the suncream in his suitcase for a couple extra jumpers and his laptop, then goes downstairs. No one is around, so there’s no one to say goodbye to as he shoves his feet into his trainers and grabs his keys off the hook by the front door. It’s just as well, really. He doesn’t particularly feel like answering any questions right now, and his eyes are probably still red and puffy. 

He doesn’t actually think he’s done freaking out, but it feels good to get in the car and just - drive. He puts in the Muse CD that skips on the last song because he and Phil wore the fucking thing down listening to it over and over while making out in Phil’s bed that first week they spent together last year. He smiles at the memory, heart doing a little extra pump for the knowledge that in a few short hours that’s exactly where he’ll be, wrapped up in Phil’s sheets and Phil’s arms.

And maybe it’s not a secret anymore. Maybe they hadn’t been as good at hiding as they’d thought they were. It shouldn’t be a surprise to either of them, really, since neither of them are particularly good at biting their tongues when things feel good, and they never really entertained the idea of Dan sleeping anywhere but tightly slotted up against Phil’s back, and Dan’s spent a small fortune since last October on train tickets, and Phil’s dad watched the video where Dan said something stupid about a sex tape and then unbuttoned his fucking shirt. 

God. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s a miracle it took as long as it did for the Lesters to put the pieces together. Everyone finds Dan out eventually. Historically he didn’t even have to _do_ anything to give himself away, so he’s not sure why he’s so fucking bowled over right now. 

Maybe it’s something about being happy for the first time in his life. Maybe it’s something about feeling the kind of safety he hasn’t known since childhood. He let his guard down. He cracked his closet door open without realizing it, just wanting to let in a bit of sunshine. He’s done that before, and aside from a few boozy make out sessions with his short lived group of emo mates, it’s never led to anything but misery.

He’d like to believe this time can be different. He kind of _needs_ to believe this time can be different, because there’s no way in hell he’s letting Phil go. He reckons no amount of fear or shame could be enough to convince him that Phil isn’t worth it.

-

He stops for petrol halfway through the drive and texts Phil, half expecting him not to be awake. He is, though, and satisfyingly thrilled that Dan actually agreed to his rather insane request. Dan fills up the tank, then buys a packet of crisps and two Red Bulls that he chugs one after the other. He’s basically having heart palpitations when he gets back on the road, but at least he’s awake. 

The drive takes an agonizing five hours because he keeps getting lost in his head and missing his turns, not to mention it’s the middle of the bloody night and everything is dark, but when he finally makes it to the Manchester milestone, a very bizarre combination of relief and dread floods his insides. Soon enough he’s going to call this city home, this city that bore witness to so many of his and Phil’s important moments. That’s the part that thrills him. The distance between them will soon be but an unfortunate memory. 

He won’t have to spend another day in that horrible brown bedroom in his horrible hometown. He won’t have to wake up in the morning wondering if his dad’s going to shout at him for being lazy and unmotivated. He won’t worry about running into guys who tormented him at school or girls he ended up leading on for years. Well, _girl_ , anyway. It was mostly just the one.

He won’t be forced to spend time in a place that nearly took everything he had. Soon he’ll be able to call the city that saved him home. But that also means he’s going to be living in halls and taking classes for a course he already knows he hates. He’ll be starting over, and that thought excites him and terrifies him in the same breath.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. For now all he has to do is finish this fucking drive and get to the man waiting for him.

-

By the time he’s finally driving up the hill to Phil’s house, his eyes are heavy and his insides are fluttering. Even dead tired, he’s still giddy at the prospect of a week of unbroken time together. He parks his car in the drive and pulls his phone out to text news of his arrival. There’s no way in hell he’d risk ringing the doorbell at three in the morning. 

Phil answers right away, with exclamation marks and smiley emoticons in a show of enthusiasm that leaps off the little screen and spreads a grin across Dan’s face. The thrill of reciprocated affection hasn’t been touched by the half year they’ve spent proving to the other that this thing between them isn’t a fleeting one.

Dan’s only stood outside on the porch for about twenty seconds before Phil wrenches the door open and pulls him inside. It’s warm where he’s wrapped in Phil’s arms and he clings a little extra tight knowing it’s dark and quiet and no one will see. Phil presses his mouth to Dan’s ear and says, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’ve never been booty-called before,” Dan murmurs just to hear Phil giggle. They both know that’s not what this is, but sometimes Dan can’t resist saying the stupidest possible thing in any given situation. Luckily, Phil knows this about him by know. “Five hours is a long drive for dick, even if it’s as good as yours.”

Phil reaches up to cup his palm over Dan’s big stupid mouth. “Shut up!” he whisper-shrieks.

Dan licks Phil’s palm and then ducks his face into Phil’s neck. “I’m glad I’m here too.” His voice has gone all soft and sappy and the energy between them changes in an instant. Phil cradles the back of Dan’s head and they stand there for a moment in the embrace of reunited lovers who spend too much time in forced separation.

“Your mum definitely knows about us, doesn’t she?” Dan whispers.

Phil nods again, and something about being here tucked up against his chest makes Dan feel a little less like all the air is being punched from his lungs.

“Don’t freak out,” Phil says in a soft, pleading kind of voice.

“M’not.”

“We can make something up about tomorrow. Tell her… I dunno. That you were visiting your aunt who lives in Liverpool or something and you didn’t want to pay for a hotel room.”

“I don’t have an aunt who lives in Liverpool,” Dan points out.

“She doesn’t know that.”

Dan hates that a part of him is genuinely entertaining the idea. He clings to the back of Phil’s t-shirt and breathes in the scent of him. “Can we just go to bed?”

Phil answers by sliding a hand into Dan’s and pulling him through the creepy darkened house, up the stairs and down the hall to his room. The floorboards creak as they walk and it makes Dan wince. To him the sound is so conspicuous they might as well be a herd of stampeding elephants, but Phil doesn’t look bothered, and that helps. Everything feels just a little less terrifying when he isn’t going through it alone.

The minute the door is closed behind them, they’re pulling off each other’s clothes and falling into Phil’s bed, and for once it doesn’t even feel sexy. Dan’s too tired for sex. He’s tired from the inside out and all he wants now is to feel Phil’s warm skin against his. They lie on their sides facing each other, pressed together chest to chest. Dan can barely see Phil in the dark but he can hear his breath and feel cold fingers gently gripping his hip.

“Why are your hands always so cold?” Dan muses fondly, trying to shuffle impossibly closer. He wedges a thigh up between Phil’s and nuzzles shamelessly, eyelids already starting to droop with the safety and comfort of it all.

“Always just waiting for you to come and warm them up.”

“Mm.” Dan’s words feel heavy in his mouth, like they’re getting stuck in his throat as fatigue blankets him. “Always wanna do that.”

“Are you sleeping?” Phil asks.

“Mhm.”

Phil kisses his forehead and says, “Goodnight then.” Dan doesn’t remember anything after that.

-

He wakes to a weird pulling sensation under his neck. He grunts in confusion and pries his eyes open to the bleary image of Phil looking just as disheveled and half conscious. “Wha—”

“Sorry,” Phil mumbles, “just—”

The tugging underneath his neck finally registers as Phil trying to tug his arm free. Dan exerts the extraordinary effort required to lift his head and Phil sighs in relief.

“There is literally no feeling left in my fingers,” Phil says, cradling his useless digits against his bare chest. “You crushed the life from me.”

Dan yawns loudly and flops an arm over his eyes. “Good,” he says, fully prepared to go right back to sleep.

But apparently, Phil has other ideas, because he nuzzles his face into Dan’s neck and says, “I’ll never be able to wank again.”

Dan chuckles, despite knowing full well exactly where Phil’s going with a comment like that. “Use your other hand, perv.”

“Nope, I’m not all ambidextrous like you.”

Dan cracks one eye open just to check that it’s actually the right hand that’s been afflicted. “Oh well,” he says. “That sucks.”

“There’s only one solution.”

Dan’s grin goes massive as he rolls his eyes. “I can’t possibly imagine what that could be.”

“You’ll have to do it for me.”

Just for the sake of hearing Phil’s reaction, Dan forgoes arguing and rolls over, sliding his hand down Phil’s stomach and inside his pants. “You’re already hard!”

Phil snickers. It’s really extremely adorable. “You’re in my bed half naked, ‘course I’m hard.”

“Is your hand even asleep?” Dan asks, but he’s already got his fingers wrapped around Phil’s cock and started a slow tugging motion upwards. 

Phil hums contentedly. “Is my what?”

Dan’s smile is so insistent it’s starting to feel ridiculous. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Mmm.”

“You know I spend half my days fantasizing about you, Phil. You don’t need gimmicks to get me to touch you.”

“Don’t need to, but it’s fun, innit?”

Dan pulls his hand free and rolls on top of Phil to sit on his lap, right on top of the hardness he’d just been cultivating. Phil’s lids are still heavy. His hair is a messy shock of black fanned out in all directions against his pillow. He’s biting his lip and his hands come to rest in a possessive sort of way on Dan’s hips and Dan feels that thing he always feels when they’re together in this way. 

It’s like he goes just a little bit mad for it. He leans down slightly to lay his palms flat against Phil’s chest - a flat chest, a chest with hair. He wonders what Phil must think is going on with Dan in moments like this, when Dan hits pause on whatever’s happening just to look. Just to marvel. 

It does feel like a marvellous thing. It’s a thing he always wanted. And then a thing he tried to convince himself he didn’t want, because everyone told him in no uncertain terms that he really shouldn’t want it. 

And now he has it. He has it, and it’s really fucking great, and it unhinges him every single time. He wants to burrow down inside Phil’s skin and make a home there. He leans down further, puts his mouth on Phil’s neck, starts to suck. He’ll stop before he leaves a mark, and it’ll take all the willpower he has. He wants to bare his teeth and sink them down. He just - wants. 

That’s really what it comes down to. Wanting. He wants Phil so bad that sometimes he’s afraid he’ll hurt him. He wants to dig in and hold on and never let go. And from what he can tell, Phil’s along for the ride. The wanting goes both ways. He can feel the evidence of it, hard and pressing against his inner thigh.

Phil makes a noise, quiet but deep, and Dan forces himself not to go full vampire. He kisses up to Phil’s mouth and licks into it and Phil licks back and Dan never thought morning breath would be an actual, legitimate turn on, but when it’s Phil’s, it is. Phil holds tight to Dan’s hips, holds him in place on his lap as he rolls his own hips up and it makes Dan’s stomach flip so violently he shivers. 

Phil’s lips turn up against Dan’s.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Dan says, breathless.

“M’not.” Phil’s voice is pure sex, gravelly and somehow still soft, like velvety pebbles. “It’s just fun winding you up.”

“Shut up,” Dan manages to say while simultaneously kissing Phil’s lips, trying in vain to swallow those pebbles whole.

“It’s really easy, too,” Phil continues. “Almost like you like me or something.”

“I love you.” He doesn’t have it in him to even try to make jokes, not when he’s in the throes. 

There’s a shift after that. Phil’s hands slide up Dan’s back to cradle instead of grip, and Dan lies down on top of Phil’s body. They kiss and kiss and kiss in the quiet of the morning and Dan doesn’t care anymore that they’re not going to Portugal, because he still gets to have this. He reckons this is all he really needs for the rest of forever.

-

Except food. Food is definitely something he still needs, as much it frustrates him when his stomach starts to make rudely interrupting noises. Phil laughs at him but certainly doesn’t argue when Dan grudgingly admits that they have to go downstairs for sustenance.

“Please tell me you actually have food this time,” Dan says as he pulls his jeans on. 

Phil rolls his eyes. “That was one time. Just one.”

“Yeah, and it scarred me for life. Food is important.” He sits on the edge of the bed and watches Phil pull a t-shirt over his head. 

“Well mum’s home, so we definitely have food.”

The warmth that had settled itself in his chest at kissing Phil until he lips went numb quickly fizzles into anxiety. “Oh,” is all he can say.

Phil seems to hone in on Dan’s thought process exactly. “She’ll have seen your car by now,” he says softly, walking over to where Dan’s sat, nudging Dan’s legs apart so he can stand in front of him and run his fingers through Dan’s hair. “She knew we were gonna be spending the week together. Nothing’s really different.”

Dan leans his cheek against Phil’s chest. “Right.”

“I mean, if you really wanna be an idiot I can make up a lie about the car,” Phil says. “You can hide up here and I’ll sneak up scraps like you’re a puppy.”

Dan turns his head and bites at Phil through his shirt. “Fuck off.”

“Come on.” He tugs very gently on Dan’s hair. “She won’t bite. She’ll just feed you eggs and toast.”

Dan’s heart is properly hammering as he follows Phil down the stairs. He knows logically that no one can tell what he and Phil were getting up to just by looking at him, but it feels like they can. It feels like it’s stamped in big black letters right on his forehead. 

Actually, maybe they can, if Dan’s cheeks are anywhere near as red as it feels like, but he’s gotten pretty good at poker facing his way through inner turmoil, so when they round the corner to the kitchen and Kath is there, sat at the table drinking coffee and reading the paper, Dan just smiles politely and says hello.

She glances down at her watch. “Quite a lie in today, then.” When she looks back up she returns Dan’s smile and says, “Hello, love.” Just like Phil had predicted, she is utterly unsurprised to see him accompanying her son yet again. 

“Hey.” He wants to add ‘Mrs. Lester,’ but she’s told him more than once to _please call me Kath_. The familiarity of that feels too alien on his tongue, so he says neither and gives her an awkward little wave instead. 

Phil plonks himself down in the seat next to her. “We’re on holiday,” he says defensively. “Meant to be, anyway.” He steals her mug out from under her and takes a sip of her coffee, wincing at what Dan can only assume is the normal human amount of sugar she uses.

She slaps his hand playfully. “Meant to be?”

“There was a volcano.”

“In— where was it you were going again?”

“Portugal. And actually, the volcano was in Iceland, but apparently there’s a load of ash in the air now and it’s bad for the plane engines or something.” 

“Oh, that’s horrible luck. Did they refund your tickets at least?”

Phil nods. “Can’t really go anywhere else though, so it’s rubbish. Nowhere on a plane anyway.” He pushes his hair from his eyes absently, and even sat right next to Kath and worrying that she knows more than she should, Dan is enamoured with how fucking gorgeous Phil looks in the morning.

“You don’t need to get on a plane to go somewhere interesting, Phil. You could get on a train and go anywhere in all of the UK.”

“Mum.” He rolls his eyes. “The point was to have _fun_.”

Dan can’t help noticing how much younger Phil seems when he gets around his family. It’s immaturity, but in a way that makes Dan’s chest ache because it’s so obviously borne from a feeling of security. He feels safe enough with them to act like a bit of a dickhead.

“Phil, make your guest some coffee,” is Kath’s response. 

“Will you make us breakfast?” Phil asks. He’s fucking shameless.

Dan has to interject at that. “It’s alright, I can do—”

“You’ll do no such thing.” She stands from her chair. “Phil will do it. He makes an edible scrambled egg.”

Dan smiles. “He does.” Dan doesn’t much care for eggs, but he has never mentioned that, and he probably never will. He physically swooned the first time Phil made him breakfast. It could’ve been half full of shells and Dan would’ve crunched them between his teeth happily.

“But you make them better,” Phil whines.

She pats his head condescendingly. “Aye. All the more reason for you to practice.”

Phil pouts and Dan snickers. Kath puts her mug in the sink and says, “Well boys, I’m off.”

“Off where?” Phil asks.

“Shall I make you a copy of my day planner?” she teases. “I’ll be gone all day, child, you should be thanking me. You two should have the place all to yourselves until late in the evening.”

Dan feels the colour drain from his face, and his eyes dart over to make contact with Phil’s. 

Phil is a rock. He lifts his leg under the table and nudges his foot against Dan’s calf, then twists around in his chair to face his mum. “Good. We’re gonna throw a party.”

“Are you now?”

Phil nods, and turns back to Dan. “Right?”

“Totally.”

“Just make sure you feed Dan first,” Kath says. “He’s a growing boy.”

“He better not freaking grow anymore,” Phil grumbles. “If he does he’ll be taller than me.”

“It’s gonna happen, mate,” Dan teases. “Just accept it.”

Phil sticks out his tongue. “See if I make you eggs now.”

“You will,” Kath tells him, pointing a very un-intimidating finger in his direction. “And don’t let anyone at your party smoke in my house or there’ll be hell to pay.”

-

Phil does make the eggs. He also makes some rather heinous instant coffee of which Dan nonetheless hoovers two giant mugs. They sit at the table in the dining room for a solid two hours, though today it feels a little less rosy than in visits past. 

Dan can’t stop thinking about _you should be thanking me_. He keeps zoning out while Phil’s talking, not clueing back in until he feels Phil’s socked toes press against his inner thigh.

“Where are you?”

Dan squeezes Phil’s foot between his legs and says, “Right here.” It’s less than convincing.

Phil tilts his head and looks at Dan’s face, and Dan looks back. It makes him feel naked. No one ever looks at him like Phil does. He reaches up to fiddle with his fringe just for a slight reprieve from the intensity of their eye contact.

Eventually he’s forced to speak. “What?”

“You’re upset about my mum, right?”

“I’m not upset. I never said I was upset.”

“Okay.” Phil’s voice is small.

It stabs at Dan’s chest with guilt. He bites his lip, chewing the poor, already-chapped skin. “Are you not?”

“I don’t think so.”

Dan wants so desperately to find the will to be cool about this, but he’s all twisty on the inside and Phil knows him too well now for that to stay hidden. “If my parents knew about us, I’d fucking—”

“Don’t.” Phil drops his foot from between Dan’s legs and leans forward, reaching his arm across the table. He turns his palm up and leaves it there, offering it for Dan to take or not.

Dan takes it. Of course he does. He slips his fingers in between Phil’s and marvels at the fact that Phil’s hands are nearly as big as his. He’s still not used to stuff like that. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“You don’t have to apologize, it just—” He squeezes Dan’s hand. “It sucks a little, even though I kind of get it. It just sucks to hear you say that.”

“My parents suck,” Dan says bluntly. “You should hear the stuff my dad’s said about this guy he works with. And mum never says a bloody word about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s— whatever. It doesn't matter. Soon I’ll be out of there.”

A smile creeps up Phil’s cheeks. “You will.”

Dan wants that to be the end of the conversation, but he doesn’t actually feel any better. He still has this unshakable, coiling fear in his gut that Phil’s parents knowing what they are to each other is the beginning of the end. “Are you not at least a little scared?” Dan asks, looking down at their hands so he won’t have to see whatever expression he’s just put on Phil’s face.

“I think… I’m relieved.”

Dan looks up. “Really?”

“I mean, It’s better than the way I got outed last time. And I’ve wanted to tell them I’m gay for ages. This kind of eliminates the need for that.”

“But it also means they know _I’m_... whatever.”

Phil pulls his hand out of Dan’s and crosses his arms over himself protectively. Dan instantly feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

And he knows exactly what that feels like. 

But Phil doesn’t actually know that, because Dan still has a few secrets he’s ashamed to share, even with Phil.

He reaches across the table and grabs Phil’s hand back. “Don’t do that.”

Phil looks down and shakes his fringe into his eyes. “We can… we can make up a lie. I can, like… pretend to have a girlfriend or something. I can stop bringing you ‘round.”

“Fuck that,” Dan blurts. All other emotions are immediately blotted out by jealousy.

Phil looks up through his hair and smiles just a bit. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing has to change,” Phil says. “If they ask me about it I’ll tell them you’re not out.”

Dan nods, continuing to chew on his poor defenceless lip. “It’s still scary as fuck. I can't pretend it’s not. But you better not tell anyone you have a fucking girlfriend.”

“I won’t. Doubt anyone would believe it anyway.” He smiles a sheepish little smile, and that’s Dan’s limit for not kissing that adorable mouth. He stands up and tugs on Phil’s arm, leading him out to the lounge, and more specifically, the sofa.

They turn on the telly, but it’s just for show. Not that there’s anyone in the house to perform normalcy for, but it feels comforting to Dan nonetheless. With the sound of it in the background he pushes Phil to lie down on the couch and then climbs on top of him to continue what had been so rudely interrupted earlier by his empty stomach.

Kissing Phil is some kind of strange transcendental experience, Dan swears. He has every intention of getting Phil’s clothes off and having his way, and he can feel quite clearly that they’re both aching for each other, but when they’re attached at the lips and breathing each other’s hair, something just happens to his brain. He loses track of time. Like, time as a concept. It stops being a thing with definable laws and evaporates into the universe to go bother someone else.

He’s pretty sure Phil sucked a bruise onto his throat at some point, but he doesn’t remember even a fleeting moment of considering a reminder for Phil that that’s not something they’re really supposed to do. All he remembers is the rush of sparking pleasure it sent prickling across his skin and the desire for it to never ever stop. 

The waist of his jeans is digging into his hip. Phil’s hands are shoved down the back of his boxers, fingers flexing every now and again to squeeze his bare ass. That part does still feel a little scary sometimes, how much he likes it. Having his dick touched doesn’t make him feel conflicted, but the butt stuff… that’s a whole different thing.

Erin never touched his ass, not like this. Not like she _wanted_ it, like she couldn’t get enough.

Phil wants it. He tells Dan all the time. And sometimes, when time and space and privacy allow, Dan gives it to him. Because Dan wants it just as much, and it feels really fucking good, even though it hurts a little sometimes, and even though it reminds him that he is very much what the cunts at school delighted in calling him. 

He didn’t think they were going to end up there when he’d led Phil to the sofa however long ago that was, but Phil’s fingers are slowing working their way in that direction. Dan’s about to say something about how he hasn’t showered since yesterday morning when they hear the distinct and terrifying sound of footsteps. 

Distinct, because they’re right there, right outside the fucking room. Dan jumps off of Phil like he’s on fire and Phil wrenches himself up just in time for them to be sat at opposite ends of the couch when Phil’s dad appears in the lounge. 

There’s a moment of awkwardness before Nigel says, “‘Ello lads.”

He knows. He has to know. There’s no way he doesn’t know. Dan’s got his knees pulled up to his chest and Phil had somehow managed to grab a throw pillow to hold over his crotch. They look exactly like two people who’ve been caught red handed writhing around on top of each other. 

That’s what Dan’s brain is telling him. He hopes he’s wrong, but he can’t imagine how he would be.

But Phil sounds casual when he says, “Hey dad.” And then, “You’re home early?”

“I’m feeling a bit poorly,” Nigel says, then coughs as if he planned it. “I’m off to bed, so… carry on.” He gestures to the tv, but it doesn’t stop Dan’s blood from running cold. _Carry on_? Seriously?

As soon as they hear the quiet sound of a bedroom door shutting upstairs, Dan shoots up from the sofa and says, “I need the toilet.”

He shuts the door behind him more firmly than he meant to and then leans back against it, closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the ceiling. His heart is still going at double speed and his breaths are shallow enough that his head is starting to hurt. 

A couple minutes later there’s a soft knock on the other side of the door. “You okay?” Phil asks quietly.

“Fine,” Dan says. “Just brilliant.”

“Dan.”

Dan swallows thickly and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Can you come out here?” When Dan doesn’t immediately respond, Phil adds, “Please?”

Dan opens the door, and instead of stepping out, Phil steps in and closes the door, locking it for good measure. Dan’s whole body crackles with nervous energy, put Phil wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him in. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

Dan lets his head rest on Phil’s shoulder, sagging his weight against Phil’s chest so heavily that Phil has to lean against the door to keep him supported. The soft thud it elicits makes them both huff amusedly, and that’s all it takes to release the tension from Dan’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Your dad almost caught you fingering me.”

“I was not!” Phil protests.

“Close enough.”

“It wasn’t close. At all.” Phil tilts his head so he can nip at Dan’s ear.

Dan digs his chin into the meaty bit between Phil’s neck and shoulder. “Can we get out of here for a while?”

“Out of the bathroom? I wasn’t actually planning on camping out here.”

“No, idiot,” Dan says fondly. “I meant like, here. The house. Can we go into the city? I feel like I need air.”

Phil nods. “But… you’re gonna come back with me after, yeah?”

Dan pulls back to give Phil a look. “Stop that.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I know you’re freaked out about it and stuff keeps happening to push you.”

“It’s fine.” He says it with enough conviction to impress himself. “We just can’t dry hump in the lounge anymore.”

Phil smirks. “Oh alright, fine then. Party pooper.”

-

They take the bus to Manchester, because Dan doesn’t trust his car as far as he’d be able to throw it, and he reckons whatever juice it’s got will be needed to make the drive back down to Wokingham when his holiday is over. They know without having to discuss it that they’re headed to Starbucks. Phil buys them caramel macchiatos and they manage to snag the sofa in the corner that’s come to feel like theirs. Dan sits perpendicular to Phil with his long legs draped over the arm of the couch and stirs his drink with the little wooden stick, watching the caramel sink into the foam.

He feels better, being out of the house. He even lets himself lean against Phil’s shoulder a bit as he picks up his mug and takes a sip that burns his tongue. The panic has receded into something much duller that sits at the back of his mind. He’s sure it’ll rear itself back up later, but for now he feels relatively confident that his entire world isn’t going to suddenly come crashing down on his head.

“Phil, that was fucked,” he does say, putting the mug back down and crossing his arms over his chest. “Like, that was _so_ fucking close.”

“Yeah.”

“We were meant to be on a plane to Portugal right now.”

“I know.”

Dan sighs quietly and tips his head back so it thunks gently against Phil’s. “Maybe your mum was right.”

Phil twists his head ‘round to give Dan a confused look. “About?”

“About getting on a train and just going… anywhere.”

Phil’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah. We could.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Don’t sound so eager there, Lester.”

“It’s just… where would we go? The whole point was to go somewhere warm.”

Dan shrugs. “That definitely wasn’t the _whole_ point. Not for me, anyway.” He drops his voice down to just above a whisper. “I was quite keen to share a hotel room with you.” He can feel the way Phil stiffens slightly at that, and it spurs his confidence. Or cheekiness. Whatever. “Honestly, I planned on barely leaving our room, so it doesn’t really matter if we end up in fucking… fucking Blackpool, for all I care.”

Phil pulls his phone out of his pocket without a word.

“What’re you doing?” Dan asks.

“Buying us tickets to Blackpool, obviously.”

Dan swings his legs around and turns his body to face Phil’s. “Phil, you dumbass, that was supposed to be a bad example of where we could go, like a worst case scenario thing.” He’s got a grin on his face regardless.

“Nah, it’s got that beach, with the theme park, yeah? We can ride the ferris wheel and go for long romantic walks by the sea.”

“It’s fucking April, we’ll freeze.” But still he loves the idea with a fervour that has him sneaking his hand between Phil’s body and the sofa to push up the back of Phil’s shirt and touch his bare skin. 

“Then we’ll go back to our room and warm each other up,” Phil murmurs.

Phil buys the tickets. They go to the cinema and get food afterwards, not catching the bus back to Rawtenstall until they run the risk of it being too late to catch a bus at all. Dan didn’t have to say anything, but he knows Phil knows that Dan didn’t want to have to face Kath or Nigel again today. The house is dark when then get back, so they tip toe up the stairs and take turns brushing their teeth. 

Phil falls asleep with Dan spooned against his back, but Dan lies awake for hours. He closes his eyes to the recurring image of him and Phil yanking themselves apart, his ears ringing with Kath and her _you should be thanking me_ and Nigel’s _carry on_. He can still feel the panic flooding his gut, violent, visceral. 

He squeezes his arm a little tighter ‘round Phil’s middle, rubs his lips against the nub of bone at the top of his spine. Phil’s not scared of this. He’s relieved. That counts for something, Dan reckons. That counts for a whole fucking lot, actually. Why should Dan be scared if Phil isn’t?


	2. Chapter 2

Dan loves riding trains when they’re not taking him away from Phil.

He loves this train ride. Phil’s sat right next to him and they’re sharing a pair of headphones. Dan’s watching the world go by out the window and every once in a while Phil will knock his knee against Dan’s. Dan will try not to smile in response but he fails every time.

He’s a bit giddy. They’ve never really gone away together like this, and though it’s a far cry from the sunny and exotic holiday they’d planned, Dan meant what he’d said. As long as they’ve got a hotel room all to themselves, he’s really got nothing to moan about. 

It’s a short ride, not even an hour and a half. When they step off the train he and Phil both seem hit with the same thought at the same time, because they turn to look at each other with a similar expression of dismay. 

It’s cold. It’s grey. It feels a bit like they stepped into a world desaturated of colour and vibrancy. The air smells like salt and there’s a man sat on a bench who looks to have been there a good long while. 

“I’m starving,” Phil says, and Dan knows he’s trying to distract him.

Dan lets him. “Yeah, let's get out of here.”

They get a taxi to a pizza place close to the hotel, not feeling brave enough to try to figure out the right bus to take. The sun is starting to set by the time they’re done eating, and it only makes the streets outside look more run down. Dan shivers and zips his coat up all the way to his chin, hoisting his backpack up higher over his shoulder.

“This place is a shithole,” he mutters. 

“It’s… yeah,” Phil agrees, though clearly reluctant to do so. “But tomorrow we’ll go to the beach, yeah? It’ll be fun.”

He’s trying so hard. Dan fucking loves him for it so much it makes his chest hurt. “We’ll have fun before that, too.” He gives Phil his very best cheeky smile, and it has the exact effect he’d been looking for. 

Phil ducks his face down inside the collar of his coat, but not quite in time to hide his sheepish grin. “Oh yeah?”

“All night long, baby.”

Phil giggles and shoves Dan’s arm. “Shut up, idiot.”

“I’m a teenager, Phil, I’ve got— what’s-it… stamina.”

Phil has to physically bring this hands up to hide his entire face then. “God. Don’t say you’re a teenager.”

“I literally technically am.”

“Eighteen isn’t a teenager.”

“Eight _teen_ ,” Dan teases. “You cradle robber.”

“Shut up!” Phil shoves him hard enough that Dan staggers to the side a bit, laughing gleefully at Phil’s embarrassment. “God, you make me feel like a dirty old man.”

“You totally are.” Dan steps in close and hooks his arm around Phil’s waist. “I fucking love it.” He lets go almost right away, his heart pounding with the rush of letting themselves be seen even for a few moments, but he’s glad he did it. He’s glad for everything he’s got right now.

“Two more months,” Phil mutters. “Then you’ll be—”

“Nine _teen_.”

“Oh my god.”

Dan wishes it was still light enough outside to see the flush he knows must be rosy on Phil’s pale cheeks. Fuck, he loves taking the piss out of Phil, loves knowing he has enough of an effect on him to make him feel anything at all, really. Even now, after six months of very full on dating, he’ll catch himself in moments of utter disbelief that he gets to call AmazingPhil his boyfriend, that he’s seen AmazingPhil naked, that AmazingPhil loves him back just as much. He’s got a fucking video to prove it, one he still watches at least a few times a day. 

But really, the thing that boggles his mind the most is that he’s the one who gets to see beyond the Amazing. Dan’s the one Phil chose to let see him, really see him. He feels drunk with it now, the improbability of it all, of being on holiday in a tacky northern seaside resort town on a cold April night with a man who loves him. A man. Who _loves_ him.

He wants to fucking celebrate. That’s what this is all about. He reaches out and tugs on the sleeve of Phil’s coat. “Hey.”

“What?” Phil croaks, still deep in the throes of embarrassment. 

“We should get drunk.”

“Should we?”

“Yeah.” He’s resolute. 

“Okay. I can look up pubs—”

“No,” Dan interrupts. “I mean, like. In our room. In bed.”

Phil cocks both eyebrows, dropping his voice into a very alluringly gruff whisper. “If I’d known taking you on holiday would turn you into such a horny little shit I would’ve booked tickets months ago.”

“I’m always a horny little shit.”

Phil snorts. “Alright. I guess that’s true.”

They stop at the first off licence they can find and Phil buys a very cheap bottle of red wine. Dan’s sure the clerk who rings it up knows exactly what he and Phil will be getting up to while they’re drinking it, but he also knows Phil would say that’s just him being paranoid. 

It’s not like it matters, anyway. They’re not breaking any laws. Dan’s an adult, as much as he likes to tease Phil that he’s not. If he wants to get drunk and fuck his boyfriend in their shared hotel room, he’s allowed.

He’s allowed.

-

The hotel is no more glamorous than anything else they’ve seen since they got here, but that’s probably closer to being their fault than anything else. They do still want to reschedule their trip somewhere warm, so they’re not keen to blow all their money on a fancy hotel. Well. Phil’s money. It’s mostly Phil’s money. 

Mostly Phil’s parents’ money.

But Dan pushes that thought and all the feelings of shame and inadequacy it evokes aside. They’re so close to getting to where Dan’s been thinking about all day. 

“Two rooms?” the concierge asks, and Dan is immediately annoyed.

“No,” he replies flatly. “One.” Phil was meant to do the talking as it’s him who’ll be doing the paying, and lord knows Dan is usually grateful for the safety net of heteronormativity, but something about this lady’s assumption just pisses him off.

“Two beds?”

The seething just below the surface is about to leap out and bite him in the ass, but he’s saved from himself when he feels Phil’s hand wrap around his wrist and squeeze gently. They’re blocked by the front desk so the woman dead set on having them sleep separately is none the wiser, but Dan’s stomach flip flops anyway.

“One bed, please,” Phil says brightly, and Dan’s nerves are instantly eclipsed by the unbearable urge to climb him like a fucking tree. 

The woman makes a face of surprise that she doesn’t even attempt to conceal, but Dan has such a raging love boner that he doesn’t even care. Phil gives her his credit card information and she gives them the key card and they waste no time getting away from her and heading for the lift. 

Dan doesn’t really take notice of the room itself, because the instant the door clicks shut behind them he’s dropping his bag and manhandling Phil towards the bed. “You’re really fucking sexy, did you know that?”

Phil doesn’t seem to take Dan’s sentiment to heart, giggling sheepishly as Dan pushes him onto the mattress and climbs up to sit on his thighs. “Who, me?”

“Yeah, you.” He leans down to kiss Phil and unzip his coat at the same time. He goes for the gusto immediately, slipping his tongue into the mix and delighting in the way that seems to properly catch Phil’s attention.

They’re working themselves up to something even more quickly than usual when Phil pushes on Dan’s chest. Dan pulls away just enough for their lips to part, but he’s not happy about it. “What?” he grunts, tilting his head a little to press a kiss to Phil’s jaw.

“Are you alright?”

Dan huffs. “Uh, can you not tell?”

“I didn’t know if… that— what I…” He flicks his fringe out of his eyes. “I didn’t know if I upset you and you were trying to distract yourself.”

“By jumping you?”

“Well… yeah.”

Dan leans back so he’s sat up, looking down at Phil and frowning. “I don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Use you.”

Phil props himself up on his elbows. “I’m not saying that.”

“You kind of are, though.” His body finds itself physically confused now, heart sinking, dick still hard between his legs. “I’m not upset.”

Phil reaches up to pull him down and then rolls over so they’re lying beside each other, both still fully dressed in coats and shoes and the lot. “Are you sure?”

Dan sighs. “I… was. But not with you. You I kind of want to propose to.”

Phil smiles, a flash of shiny pink appearing between his front teeth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Gonna… gonna wife you up good.”

Phil giggles breathily and toes his shoes off. They hit the carpeted floor with a heavy thud. “I’d be a rubbish wife. I can't cook or clean to save my life.”

“Wow, Phil. How very sexist of you, mate.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Dan kicks his own shoes off and curls his legs up, turning his head to look at the profile of Phil’s face. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that bird beak every morning. “I won’t. I’ll be a good husband and keep your secret.”

Phil turns his head to return Dan’s adoring gaze. “Cheers.”

“Cheers your mum,” Dan murmurs back.

“You were upset,” Phil says gently.

Dan looks at the ceiling. “I just don’t know why it always has to be a big deal.” He knows that doesn’t really explain anything. It doesn’t even really explain how he feels, but he’s not sure how else to say it.

Phil says, “I know.” So maybe that’s all Dan has to say.

He sits up, takes his coat off, and throws it on the floor. “Can we have fun now, please?”

-

Fun means stripping down to their pants and climbing into bed and under the covers. Fun means passing their bottle of cheap red back and forth, hissing with every swig about how disgusting it tastes. 

“This room is tacky,” Dan announces loudly. They’ve gotten through about two thirds of the bottle and he’s definitely feeling it.

Phil takes the bottle right from Dan’s hands. “I think everything in Blackpool might be a bit tacky.” He tips his head back to take a drink, and being the clumsy sod that he is, misses his mouth completely and pours a good glug of the stuff right down his bare chest. He yelps in surprise and Dan bursts into a fit of laughter that feels punched right out of him. 

“Oh my god, you’re _so_ stupid!” he cackles, but he still reaches over to take the bottle from Phil’s flailing hand and put it on the nightstand before he can make the mess any worse. 

“It’s gonna get all over the sheets!”

“Don’t move, don’t move,” Dan instructs, getting up onto his knees and hitching a leg over Phil’s so he’s straddling him but not actually sitting.

“What—”

“Don’t move,” Dan says again, and he leans down to lick Phil’s skin where it’s tinged pink and bitter. He swipes his tongue over a patch of hair and is hit as he so often is in these intimate moments with just how firmly male Phil is. He shifts down a bit and draws his tongue over Phil’s nipple, because suddenly he doesn’t actually give a fuck about cleaning up the wine. He’d sleep in a water bed full of the stuff if it meant he got to hear the sharp breath Phil sucks in when Dan grazes that little pink nub with his teeth.

“Don’t think I spilled anything there,” Phil says, voice gone low with the sudden swerve in tone.

“Just checking.” 

He always was a horny drunk.

Phil reaches a hand up and threads his fingers into the hair at the back of Dan’s head, cupping gently around the shape of his skull and guiding his face exactly where he wants Dan’s mouth to go. Dan shivers and kisses under his ear, sitting down with his full weight right on top of Phil’s crotch. His fingers brush Phil’s stomach. It’s soaked with wine and he laughs breathy and warm against Phil’s neck. “Mate, you’re a bloody mess.”

Phil nods, arching his back a little and pushing down slightly on the top of Dan’s head. “Clean me up.”

Dan’s insides turn molten, but he’s not going to let on to that. “Ask me nicely.”

Phil doesn’t even hesitate. “Please.” He’s a horny drunk too.

So Dan huffs like he’s being terribly inconvenienced as he shuffles down Phil’s torso, but he reckons all the enthusiastic kissing and licking probably give him away.

That and the massive hard on tenting his pants. 

He gives the fleshy bit just below Phil’s belly button a cheeky bite just to keep him on his toes. Phil flinches, hand flying up like a reflex to grip his fingers in Dan’s hair again. “Oi,” he says softly, clearly not put out in the slightest. 

Dan bites him again, slowly, deliberately. 

Phil doesn’t hate it, Dan can tell. His chin is grazing some pretty solid proof that Phil isn’t hating anything that’s going on right now. He shuffles back a little further and kisses that hardness through the thin layer of fabric provided by Phil’s boxers.

“Dan.”

Dan looks up to see Phil leaned back against the headboard, eyes heavy lidded and hair wild. It’s almost inconceivable how beautiful he is.

“C’mere,” he says, squeezing Dan’s shoulder.

It’s not what Dan was expecting him to say, but he goes anyway, climbing back into Phil’s lap. Phil takes hold of Dan’s face and pulls him into a kiss, much sweeter and softer than Dan was ready for. It tugs at all the mushy sentimental parts of his psyche, and as he melts against Phil’s sticky chest, he feels heat prickling behind his eyes.

“I’m glad we’re here in this tacky room together,” Phil says, his lips still close enough to brush against Dan’s as he speaks.

Dan nods, afraid if he tries to say anything that he’ll do something idiotic like start to cry. 

“I’m also glad the front desk lady knows we’re in bed together right now.”

Dan snorts. “Me too. Did you see her face?”

Phil smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind Dan’s ear. “We should ring down and ask if they have condoms in the room. She might have an aneurysm.”

“Or we could just—” Dan reaches down and pulls Phil out of his boxers with one surprisingly deft movement given how buzzed he is.

Phil’s mouth falls open a little. “Yeah, that’s better. That’s definitely better.”

Dan tries to start touching him in earnest, but Phil shakes his head and pushes Dan’s hand away gently. Before Dan can feel the sting of rejection there are cold fingers reaching into his pants and pulling him out too. He looks down in awe as Phil lines them up and tries to squeeze around them both at the same time. 

He can almost do it. His hands are big, just not quite big enough, so Dan reaches down and helps him close the gap. 

“Fuck,” Phil breathes, and that just makes it hotter. He curses often enough, but almost never that particular word. Not unless he really likes something Dan is doing to him, which is why it instantly sends any remaining blood in Dan’s body coursing between his legs. 

Dan tightens his grip, finding that _his_ hands actually are big enough. “Let me do it.”

Phil doesn’t argue, dropping his hand down to cup Dan’s thigh instead, pressing the pads of his fingers into Dan’s flesh as Dan starts to stroke.

“This would work better with lube,” Dan says.

“Don’t let go.” Phil looks up into Dan’s eyes, and it would seem that he’s surprised by his own fervour. “It’s perfect. Just— stay.”

Dan feels the hair on his arms prick up. He keeps a firm grip on the both of them and leans down for a kiss. He has to. Presently, kissing Phil feels about as necessary as breathing. 

Phil’s answering kiss is open, giving, unrestrained. Dan is dazed by it, even with all the other sensations vying for his attention. He remains that way until Phil whispers, “You feel so good.”

Dan blurts out, “I love you.”

He does that. Ever since the first time he let it slip, he’s been doing that, just letting the statement burst forth from his mouth like he’s got no control over it. Maybe he doesn’t. Sometimes it really does feel completely out of his hands.

It’s still scary. Fuck, it’s terrifying. 

But Phil smiles and says, “I love you,” right back, just like he always does.

Dan gets them both off. It takes a long time. There’s lots of kissing and arm cramping and maddening dry friction and Dan thinks it’s more the concept and the visual of the act than the actual sensation that ends up pushing him over the edge. It feels wrong, almost, how dirty and beautiful they look lined up in his grip, and spilling out onto Phil’s stomach is definitely an image that will remain sharp in his memory for as long as he still has one. 

And then Phil comes and that’s even better.

They share the rest of the wine after having done the absolute bare minimum of cleanup. Phil said _stay_ when Dan tried to get up to fetch a towel, and he couldn’t think of a good reason not to give in to that request. They’ll need a shower in the morning. Desperately. But for now, falling asleep in the filth of their own joyous making is the perfect way to end the first day of their first holiday. 

-

Dan wakes up feeling disgusting. There are altogether too many dried fluids decorating his skin and his brain is drumming its dehydration against his skull. It could be worse, but it’s not pleasant. He rolls over to moan about it to Phil, assuming he’ll be feeling similar - if not worse because of his advanced age - but he’s still sleeping peacefully, one arm curved to frame the top of his head, the other still stuck under Dan’s body. 

Dan sits up carefully, fumbling for his phone to check the time. It’s way earlier than he’d ever actively choose to wake up, and he’d like nothing more to cuddle up and get some more rest, but he knows he feels too rubbish to fall back to sleep, and Phil deserves a lie in if he can get one. He’s prone to the kind of headaches that keep him in bed all day, and Dan doesn’t want that. He never does, but especially not now, when they only have a few days of true freedom. 

He shuffles to the edge of the mattress slowly, wincing at every creak the bed makes. Phil stirs, but only enough to let out one extremely endearing little snuffle and turn his head in the opposite direction. If Dan wasn’t on the verge of a proper hangover, he’d definitely insist on fitting himself into all the negative spaces of Phil’s body and clinging like a koala.

But he very much _is_ on the verge of a proper hangover, so he gets up and heads for the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and then cups handful after handful of cold water into his mouth, swallowing them down like he’s been in the desert for a week. Are hangover worse with wine? Isn’t he too young to feel this shit after what ultimately wasn’t even that much alcohol?

It helps, though, the hydration and the minty mouth. He starts up the shower and looks at himself in the mirror while the water heats up. He watches a crooked little smirk quirk up his cheek at the sight of a small but clearly defined purple mark just above his left nipple. He reaches up to press the pad of a finger against it gently. It doesn’t hurt, and he doesn’t remember Phil giving it to him. It’s the nicest kind of souvenir he can think of. 

Showering feels almost as good as the sex that made the shower so necessary. He stands under the spray for a good five minutes before he even thinks about reaching for the shampoo, letting the heat drum against his back and shoulders with a surprisingly firm pressure. Overall their room is a pretty shit one, but the shower is great. 

He forces himself out once he’s clean, though he reckons he could stay in there all day. It’d definitely be a dick move to use up all the hot water before Phil got a chance to get clean too. He’ll probably be needing it even more than Dan did.

Dan towels off and digs some clothes out of his bag. He gets dressed and does his hair, and when Phil’s still not awake, he decides to be a good boyfriend and go out and get coffee. It’s not entirely selfless, because caffeine is probably exactly what he needs to chase away what lingers of his headache, but he can picture the smile Phil will give him when he wakes up and that would be more than enough to get his ass out the door.

All told, it takes him about forty minutes to find a cafe and make it back to the hotel with lattes and chocolate croissants, and when the door to their room falls shut behind him, the noise of it is what finally rouses Phil from sleep. He drags himself up to sit and blinks at the sight of Dan fully dressed and loaded down with their breakfast.

“Morning, you,” Dan says, toeing his shoes off and walking toward the bed.

Phil doesn’t yet seem fully in charge of his faculties. “What?”

“Good morning?” Dan holds out one of the coffees for him.

Phil takes it, staring down at the cup around which his fingers are wrapped and mumbles, “Where’d you get this?”

“Found it on the side of the road,” Dan deadpans. 

Phil takes a sip, and the way his face brightens is like watching the sun rise. “Oh, it’s good!”

“Well yeah.” Dan puts the haul on the bedside table so he can take off his coat, then plonks himself down on the bed and leans back against the headboard. “Only the good shit for my wife, you know.”

Phil beams at him, tilting his head back and taking a long drink. Dan watches the way it stretches out his long pale neck, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. It’s really fucking ridiculous how easy it is for him to get distracted by Phil’s attractiveness. 

“Best husband ever.” Phil leans in for a kiss that’s warm and sweet and bitter and ends too soon. “Why do you look so pretty? I feel like a dead mongoose.”

Dan laughs. “I showered all my dead mongoose away.”

“Ooh, shower. Good idea.”

“Yeah, mate, you definitely need to do that ASAP. You’re covered in dried jizz and merlot.”

“Dan!” Phil swats at him and then hides his face in the crook of his arm. “I hate you.”

Dan twists over to grab the food off the nightstand and drop it in Phil’s lap. “You sure ‘bout that?”

Phil pulls a croissant out of the bag. “Oh my god, I’m so glad I married you.”

Dan grins smugly. “Mhm.”

-

Thanks to Dan’s insanely early wake up time, the train that takes them to Pleasure Beach is nearly empty. They split a packet of crisps and spend the short journey discussing ideas for the video they plan to film together when they get back to Rossendale. 

There’s still a damp chill in the air by the time they step off the train and make their way to the park’s entrance, but the sun is out and they can smell the sea, and though it’s undeniable that the whole place is the amusement park version of a senior citizen, Dan sees a big wheel jutting out into the sky and he knows they’re going to have a good day. 

And they do. They ride the wheel and maybe Dan steals a kiss or two when they’re up in the clouds just because of the memory it evokes. They ride as many of the coasters as they can stomach, leaving the biggest and best for last. Dan’s too busy laughing at Phil’s weird animalistic screeches to do any screaming of his own. They can see the sand and the sea from so high up, and Dan thinks maybe he was a little too harsh with his first judgement of this place. It’s a shithole, but a nice one. A charming one, anyway.

Phil doesn’t get sick, but after the Big One it’s a near thing. He looks a little green as they walk out to the beach and park themselves in the wet sand to watch the waves roll in and break on the shore, but the air is even colder so close to the ocean, and before too long he’s looking over at Dan and asking if they can go get ice cream.

Dan laughs. “You don’t actually need my permission.”

“Yeah but it’s only fun if we both get some.”

Dan digs out a fistful of sand and sprinkles it on the knee of Phil’s jeans. “Do you promise not to sick it right back up on me?”

Phil makes a considering face. “I promise… to try not to.”

Dan shakes his head, equal parts fond and disgusted. “Why’d we go on so many rides if it makes you feel so ill?”

“It’s fun.” Then he adds, “And I knew it’d make you happy.”

Dan’s heart swells. He smiles, then ducks his head to look down at the sand. There’s something tugging at him suddenly, a happy memory tinged with a sadness that he doesn’t understand.

Phil, of course, picks up on it right away. “What?”

Dan shrugs. “Just reminds me of something.”

Phil shuffles over to sit close enough that their hips brush. “Of what?” he asks gently.

Dan turns his head, digging his chin into his own shoulder and studying Phil’s face. “When I was nine my mum and grandma took me and Adrian to Disneyland.”

“Aww,” Phil coos. “Baby Danny.”

“Shut up.” Dan kicks some sand over at him.

“Sorry, go on. Your dad wasn’t there?”

“Course not. He never was for stuff like that.”

Phil’s smile wavers a little, so Dan charges ahead with the story, not wanting to linger on that particular confession. “Obviously Adrian was basically still an infant and my nan wasn’t up for rollercoasters, but I really wanted to go on Space Mountain. So my mum rode it with me literally five times in a row even though her two greatest fears in life are the dark and heights.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Five times in a row. Just because she didn’t want me to have to ride it alone.” 

“That was good of her,” Phil says. “Good mum points for Karen.”

Dan nods, a little lost in picturing how much that day must have sucked for her, and how he hadn’t even noticed it back then. He hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. 

What he does remember is being upset that his dad wasn’t there. He remembers being rude to his mum about it, actually, even though she was the one who’d actually shown up for him.

“My sacrifice wasn’t that great,” Phil says, and Dan is shaken from his inner angsting. “I wasn’t afraid, I just have a weak stomach.”

“And you wanted to make me happy.” His voice is thin when he says it, and he has to bite his lip to gain back his control.

“Always.”

If he sits here with this feeling any longer he knows he’s going to cry, so he hoists himself up without warning and then holds his hand out for Phil. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

-

That night, when they’re back in their room and the bedside tables are littered with the remnants of their room service dinner, when Dan’s sat on the bed watching Phil brush his teeth through the open bathroom door, the feeling returns. The feeling of happiness, of being loved, and being sad because he knows it can’t last forever. They only have a few days in this place and then it’s back to a reality where their spaces are separate and nothing really holds them together but the strength of their conviction that someday it will be easier.

It feels so real here, when they can fall asleep in each other’s arms and wake up in the morning with limbs numbed from being pinned under the other all night. Phil can walk around the room in his underwear and Dan’s allowed to watch him do it. He’s allowed to pull Phil onto the bed and yank those pants down and use his mouth to get Phil off while Phil pets his hair and tells him it’s never felt like this with anyone else before. There’s no one waiting on the other side of the door to make them feel like they’re just kids, like they’re just playing pretend. He loves it so much that he’s already panicking about how shit it’s going to feel to go back to his sad brown room in a town that holds nothing but reminders that he _is_ playing pretend.

The bravery will evaporate the moment they go back. Dan won’t carry with him the anger at being perceived as Phil’s mate - he’ll cling to it. He’ll cultivate it. They’ll film a video on Phil’s bedroom floor and afterwards they’ll meticulously edit out every look and touch that makes obvious the truth of what they are to each other. 

And they’ll do that because Dan wants it, not because Phil does. Dan thinks Phil might even be happier if they didn’t. 

Sometimes, in brief flashes of moments, Dan thinks he would too. He _knows_ he would. He wants to tell everyone and their mum that Phil is his, and he also wants to tell no one.

God. He can’t even be consistent in his fantasies.

His heart is heavy when he wakes up on their last morning in Blackpool. The light peeking through the blinds is the dullest it’s been since they arrived. They’ve got their tickets home booked for later that afternoon, and no plans before that. Dan’s glad. He doesn’t want to move from this bed. Nothing they could do in town holds a candle to pressing his cheek against the warmth of Phil’s chest and breathing in the smell of him.

Phil rolls onto his back, bringing Dan along with him with an arm hooked around Dan’s back. “Morning, you,” he says, gravelly and soft.

“That’s my line,” Dan murmurs back. He already sounds sad.

Phil notices. He kisses the top of Dan’s head and holds him a little tighter. “Home today.”

“Yeah.” Dan runs a finger in swirls over Phil’s stomach. “I hate it.”

“Me too.”

“It’s gonna be like, almost a month until we can see each other again.” He’s not even trying not to sound like a stroppy child. A month might as well be a fucking lifetime.

“Not true,” Phil argues. “Skype.”

“Right.” Dan starts tracing circles around Phil’s belly button. “You’ll be in Florida, so it’s not like you’ll miss me.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Dan snorts, then tilts his head up to look at Phil’s face. “You’re supposed to love me for who I am, Philip.” 

“I’ll sneak you in my suitcase.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Dan says miserably.

Suddenly Phil flips them over so Dan is flat on his back and Phil hovers over him, hair falling down and tickling Dan’s face. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Dan says, but he can’t hide his smile.

“I promise we’ll talk every day. And we’ll skype as often as we can.”

Dan nods. He doesn’t actually want to ruin their last day of holiday being a sad sack. He tilts his face up toward Phil’s and waits for Phil to close the distance. 

“I’ll be thinking about you the whole time,” Phil says. 

“Me too.”

“You’ll be thinking about yourself the whole time?” Phil smirks.

Dan surges forward to close his teeth over Phil’s bottom lip and tug it away from the gums roughly.

“Ow.” He nudges Dan’s legs open with his knee and then fits himself into the space. “Why do my worst jokes make you randy?”

“All your jokes are your worst jokes,” Dan quips. 

“You like my jokes.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

Phil presses his forehead against Dan’s. “Five more months.”

Dan closes his eyes and whispers back, “Yeah.” He doesn’t say that five months might as well be a lifetime. Phil’s trying hard to share his rose coloured glasses. 

Then they’re kissing and the weight on his heart lifts a little. It gets hot in a matter of minutes, and under the covers Phil pulls both their pants off before grabbing Dan’s leg behind the knee and pushing it up against his chest. Every other thought in Dan’s brain is eclipsed after that.

-

They’ve come back by the time they board the train, but Dan manages to tamp them down by reminding himself that they’ve still got a few days in Phil’s house before the return of the true horror that is Wokingham. 

They share headphones again and drink bad coffee as they leave Blackpool behind. Dan holds Phil’s hand for the entire trip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for this chapter: marijuana use and homophobic language

“If you could choose what surname you had, what would be your decision?” He asks the question to the camera, then turns around to wait for Phil’s response.

They’re back in Rawtenstall, back in Phil’s creepy haunted Shining house sat on his bedroom floor with the green and blue bed behind them and a list of nonsensical questions hastily transcribed from Phil’s twitter replies clutched in Dan’s hand.

Phil just looks at him for a moment, lips parted slightly while his eyes search Dan’s face like he’s looking for clues to the correct answer. “Um… Striker.”

Dan laughs. It’s such a Phil answer.

“Phil Striker.” He says it with such enthusiasm. He’s a complete and utter dork.

Dan turns back to the camera and gives future editing Phil a little smirk, knowing he’ll have to cut the next bit out. “Excuse me.”

“What?” Phil asks.

“I thought you were my wife.” He turns back to see Phil’s reaction.

Phil blinks owlishly, but Dan waits, lifting up one of his eyebrows.

“What?”

Dan shakes his head gently, an amused smile playing on his lips.

Finally, _finally_ recognition dawns in the form a giant grin on Phil’s face. “Oh.”

“There we go.”

“Who’s being sexist now?” Phil pokes Dan in the soft bit of flesh pushed up by the waist of his jeans.

Dan sticks out his tongue. “It’s not sexist, it’s… traditional.”

Phil reaches a hand around Dan’s waist and presses it right against Dan’s crotch. “Hmm. It would appear we have the same bits.” He takes Dan’s hand and guides it to press against him too. “See? Don’t think that’s considered especially traditional.”

Dan turns around, wrapping his legs around Phil’s waist and hooking his ankles together. He drapes his arms around Phil’s neck. “Fine. You take mine and I’ll take yours.”

Phil bites the tip of Dan’s nose. “Or we could both be Striker.”

Dan tilts his head, staring into Phil’s ocean eyes as he considers his proposal. “Yeah, alright. Howell sucks anyway.”

Phil squeezes around Dan’s waist and presses their foreheads together. “This one doesn’t. This one’s pretty freaking great.”

Dan tilts his head again, this time to get the right angle to press his lips to Phil’s. “I really don’t want to fucking go home tomorrow.”

“I don’t want you to either, babe.”

Dan breathes a little laugh against Phil’s face. “Babe? Are we babe people now?”

“You’re always a babe to me.”

Dan laughs again. “Shut up.”

“But you’re smiling,” Phil murmurs. “That must mean I’m doing something right.”

The smile drops from Dan’s face. “Seriously, Phil. Stop.”

“Okay.” He waits a beat. “Stop what?”

“I dunno, just… being so good. You’re so nice to me. I don’t know how to handle it.”

Phil presses his hand flat against Dan’s lower back. “It’s what you deserve, though. Everyone should be nice to you.”

“No one’s ever been good to me like you. Not even my own fucking family.”

It’s clear that Phil doesn’t know how to respond to that. He tightens his grip on Dan, crushing them together and going in for a more extensive kiss, and Dan kisses back. He gets it. He knows he can be intense. Phil’s a saint for putting up with him at all.

“You’re gonna have your work cut out for you when you edit this thing,” Dan says against Phil’s mouth.

“Yeah. Just like every other video we’ve ever filmed together.”

-

“Back to reality, then, eh Dan?”

Dan looks up from where he’s been staring at his breakfast, dutifully trying to avoid eye contact with Kath, who surely must have heard the groan that escaped Dan’s big stupid mouth last night when Phil curled a long clever finger in exactly the right spot. “Yeah,” he says gruffly, heart squeezing over the purity of his disappointment at having to admit the truth of those words. Once they’re done eating, he has to pack his bags into the boot of his little shit box and make the long drive back to Hell.

She reaches out and pats his arm in a move that should feel patronizing, but in reality actually feels as motherly as he reckons she intends. “I’m sure you’ll be missing Phil while he’s in America. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing all about how much Phil is missing you.”

His immediate, unfiltered reaction is panic blazing hot through his veins. His eyes dart in Phil’s direction, who’s already staring back at Dan intently. Phil smiles, so Dan smiles back, trying to remind himself how to breathe, that his doom isn’t imminent, that there are worse things than being quietly accepted by your boyfriend’s mother.

“We’re gonna be there for ages and the only person even close to my age is Martyn,” Phil whines, clearly just trying to deflect a little from the implications of Kath’s statement, and Dan kicks a socked foot out under the table to gently rub up his calf in gratitude. “Everyone is Florida is like eighty years old.”

“You’re so ageist, Phil,” Nigel says from behind his newspaper. “I’ll bet those Floridian grandmothers could tell you some wild stories.”

Dan laughs. “Plus, you can work on the tan you were meant to get in Portugal.”

Phil groans. “I’m just gonna burn.”

“You’re not, because you’re going to wear sun cream,” Kath tuts. “Even if I have to slather it on myself.”

Phil rolls his eyes, then looks back at Dan and smiles again. It’s a smile meant just for him, just to reassure Dan that he’s good. They’re good.

Phil is so fucking good.

“I’ll be missing Phil too,” Dan blurts, returning his gaze to his coffee. “It’s pretty boring when he’s off having fun without me.” His heart is pounding. His cheeks are absolutely aflame.

But just like Phil’s smile suggested, the earth doesn’t implode. The ground doesn’t open up at his feet to swallow him whole. Instead there’s the rustling sound of newspaper pages being turned and a fork scraping quietly against a plate and Kath saying, “Phil does keep things interesting, don’t you, child? Remember when you were a child and you asked Auntie Sandra how she knew which willy to wee out of?”

Dan snorts mid-sip of coffee, dribbling down his chin as he chokes on his laughter. Phil hides his face in shame. Kath and Nigel exchange expressions of fondness over their darling idiot son. It’s idyllic to the point of absurdity, but Dan knows it’s real because there’s still no small amount of terror tucked up alongside the relief. It’s real in all its facets, and Dan gets to have it.

-

Dan stands on the pavement in front of the driver’s side of his car, eyes cast down, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. This is the moment he’s been dreading, the moment he has to close the door between them and leave Phil in his rear view.

His bags are in the boot. He has a tupperware full of biscuits Kath had insisted on baking for him to keep him sustained on the ride home. Phil’s stood in front of him with his hands in his pockets, the purple edge of the love bite Dan gave him last night peeking up from beneath the collar of his plaid button down.

The next time Dan sees him, neither of them will bear even the slightest trace of the marks they’d gifted the other on this trip, and it makes Dan’s chest feel tight.

It’s not just about the sex. Phil is his best friend, the only one he’s ever had. Even if they never touched each other once, saying goodbye would still feel a little like dying inside. Being with Phil is like feeling the sun after a week of rain. It’s proof that he isn’t unlovable, that he can be all the things that made people at school hate him and still be worthy of the warmth and tenderness and _care_ that Phil gives to him. Phil makes him laugh. Phil listens, like _really_ listens. They like the same things. They make each other happy.

There was a long stretch of years where Dan was sure he’d never feel happy again. But then he met Phil, and the connection they forged made all the difference. Leaving that behind, even if only for a few weeks, even knowing they’ll be up late more often than not sharing their thoughts with each other over the phone or a grainy skype connection - it feels dramatic. It feels like tearing off a little piece of his heart.

He clears his throat, trying in vain to rid it of the lump taking up residence there. “Right,” he says, forcing himself to lift his eyes up to meet Phil’s. “Bye, then.” It’s not the farewell he’d like, but they’re stood in the drive of Phil’s parents’ house, with both of said parents still inside. They can’t get away with anything more.

Or so Dan had assumed. Suddenly he finds his back pushed up against the car window, Phil’s hand placed decisively on his hip. His eyes are boring holes into Dan’s, and he doesn’t have to say a word for Dan to understand that he’s asking for permission. Dan gives it to him by surging forward and kissing him, forgetting himself for a minute in the heady meeting of their lips. Phil breathes out heavy against Dan’s face and leans into him so he’s crowded back against the car door again.

Dan pushes him away very gently after what realistically must have been only a few seconds, but every nerve ending in his body is vibrating in terrified exhilaration.

“Yeah,” Phil croaks. “Bye.”

“Phil.” Dan’s still got a hand pressed flat against Phil’s chest. He’s only wearing a t-shirt, so Dan can feel the bumps of his ribs and the pounding of the heart underneath them.

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

Phil grins. “I know.”

Dan barks a laugh, and it’s exactly what he needed to expel some of the unbearable tension. “Fuck off.” He shoves Phil’s shoulder and then pulls him into a hug. “Say it back.”

“Love you,” Phil murmurs, digging his chin into the back of Dan’s shoulder. “I’ll be ringing you so often you won’t even have time to miss me.”

“Don’t leave me for a fit American surfer with abs.”

Phil huffs. “But that’s my one true weakness.”

“That’s not funny.” He wishes he weren’t being totally, one hundred percent serious.

“Dan. I’m joking.”

“Yeah, but… it could happen.”

Phil pulls back, holding Dan in front of him by the shoulders and using his eyes to dig right down into Dan’s soul. “It won’t.”

“Would you love me more if I had abs?”

“No. I might love you more if you weren’t so bloody stupid, though.”

Dan opens his mouth and then closes it again. “Just… don’t.”

“I won’t. You don’t seem to understand how literally impossible that scenario is.”

“It’s not. I’m sure Florida’s filled with hot guys.”

Phil shrugs. “Maybe. But they might as well be walking warthogs for how much attention they’ll get from me. In this extremely unlikely hypothetical scenario that is definitely never going to happen.”

Dan crosses his arms over his stomach. He’s ruining it. He’s ruining their last moments together and he doesn’t know how to stop.

“You’re an idiot,” Phil tells him.

“I know.”

“I’ve only got eyes for you, babe.”

Dan can’t help smirking. “Shut up. You’re an idiot too.”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees. “Match made in heaven.”

-

Even with a belly full of baked goods, Dan feels empty and gnarled with hunger by the time he finally pulls up in the drive of his own house. Against all odds he's made it home without breaking down - in neither the automotive nor emotional sense. Loud music and a lead foot on the accelerator might as well be therapy, or at the very least an excellent distraction.

He does still shoot Phil a _made it home safe_ text before he retrieves his bags from the boot, but he feels a little less downtrodden than he had when he peeled himself out of Phil’s arms and forced himself into the car. It’s three weeks. They’ve gotten through worse, and Dan has enough to keep him busy. He’s got videos to edit, videos to film, sleep to catch up on. Maybe he could even trick himself into believing the whole ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ thing, if he really tries.

He kicks his shoes off and dumps his bag on the floor and makes a beeline for the kitchen. His mum is there, sat at the kitchen table with a stack of papers in front of her. She’s talking into the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder and doesn’t do more than momentarily flick her eyes in his direction, so Dan doesn’t bother saying anything to her.

He opens the fridge and rummages around for a while before being forced to accept that there’s nothing satisfying in there. He makes a displeased kind of noise, and just as he’s shutting the door and turning around to focus his attention on the cupboards instead, his mum hangs up the phone and sets him with a look.

A mum look, and not the kind where she’s happy to see him.

He wonders if he’ll ever stop being surprised by how often she gives him that look.

“What?” he asks, suddenly rooted to the spot.

“A hello would be nice.”

He suppresses his instinct to sigh loudly or roll his eyes. “You were on the phone.”

“I’ve been busy with work, Daniel. I haven’t had a lot of time to go shopping. You know, you could contribute to buying groceries for the house, too. I’m not the only adult living in this house anymore. You’re old enough to take some responsibility.”

He bites back making any mention of the very adult man she’s married to who also happens to live in this house. “Alright? I didn’t even say anything.”

She ignores that. “You treat this place like a hotel. I’m not your maid.”

His mouth has dropped open a little at this point. He’s almost impressed with how quickly she’s managed to latch onto a bullshit reason to be cross with him. “I just got home. Like, literally just walked in the door.”

“You left your bedroom a mess. Laundry everywhere.”

“You don’t have to go into my room,” Dan counters. “Like, I really wish you wouldn’t.”

Her face is all sharp angles and disappointment. She’s always so bloody disappointed with him. “Just clean it up, please.”

“Fine.”

The angles soften a little. She was clearly expecting more of a fight, but Dan doesn’t have it in him right now. He’s about to retreat up to his room, because being hungry is more appealing to him than being shouted at, but she surprises him by asking, “So, then. How was your trip?”

“It was… fine.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Portugal not exotic enough for you now?”

“Portugal was cancelled. You know, because of the volcano?”

“Oh. So…”

“We went to Blackpool.” He says it before he has a chance to think about the implications of taking a very shit holiday instead of just rescheduling the one that would make sense to her. She’s not supposed to know that spending time with Phil is the thing that means more than the actual destination, because that bumps up too close to the truth. Kath and Nigel knowing is bad enough.

“Blackpool,” she says, incredulous.

“We’re gonna reschedule Portugal,” Dan scrambles.

Her face looks pinched again. His stomach clenches. “What?” he asks.

She returns her attention to the papers laid out in the table. “I just don’t understand how you’re paying for all these trips when you haven’t worked in months.”

He can feel the heat of anger prickling at his self control. “I had my work experience. And I’m going to uni soon. No one’s gonna hire me when I’ll just have to quit in a few months.”

She clicks her tongue and doesn’t look back up at him.

“I’ll get a job once I’m settled in Manchester.”

“Mhm,” she hums, so condescending that he knows for sure he’s about to cry hot angry tears. He makes a break for it, intent on getting up to his room before he properly breaks down.

He’s almost escaped when she says, “Dan, love.”

He stops in the doorway, but doesn’t turn around.

“I’m not trying to…” There’s a creaking sound that he assumes is her turning around in her chair to face him, but he can’t reciprocate. He’s already far gone enough to be physically biting back the tears. “I’m just concerned about you. You seem so unfocused.”

He swallows thickly and takes a ragged breath before he speaks, but to his dismay the strain is still clear in his voice. “I’m fine.” There’s a long pause then, in which he debates whether or not he wants to say the resentful thing he ends up blurting out. “I’m actually having fun for once.”

“You’re not a child anymore, Daniel. Fun isn’t the only thing you need to consider.”

He laughs bitterly. “God, mum. You sound like dad.” He doesn’t wait for whatever her response is, bounding up the stairs to his room two at a time and slamming the door behind him.

-

He spends the next few days avoiding her. He sleeps in until well past midday, then fucks around on the internet or playing Rock Band until he gets too hungry to ignore his growling stomach. He makes sure his bedroom is spotless and keeps up with his laundry and does all the washing up, all out of spite.

His nights belong to Phil - either talking to him or watching his videos or just thinking about him in a really pathetic way while he tries to distract himself with video games or Twitter or scripting new videos.

Tonight is one of the blissful nights Phil isn’t playing board games with his family or going to some weird themed restaurant for a late dinner or just passing out early after a long day in the sun. Actually, tonight he’s ill, so much so that he said he didn’t want Dan to see evidence of how rough he looks over skype. So they’re doing things the old fashioned way, murmuring into their phones, listening to each other’s voices with five and a half thousand miles between them.

Phil’s voice crackles in Dan’s ear, rough from days of coughing. “It figures I’d get frickin swine flu the instant we get here.”

“Probably because Blackpool was such a tip.”

“Hey, no more bad mouthing Blackpool. We had fun.”

Dan smiles up at his ceiling. “Yeah, alright. I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

“I wish you were here,” Phil says. “I’m so bored. My family was out having fun all day and I was trapped in bed sweating my balls off like a dying walrus.”

“Yeah,” Dan snorts. “I’m so sorry I’m missing out on _that_.”

He can hear the pout in Phil’s voice. “Is that all it takes for you to abandon me? A little ball sweat?”

“It’s not the sexy kind though, is it?” Dan teases.

“I didn’t actually know there was a way for perspiring testicles to be sexy.”

“It’s all about what’s causing the perspiration.”

“I feel objectified.”

Dan laughs. “Good. That’s what I was aiming for.”

“This is abuse,” Phil informs him. “Abuse of the infirmed.”

“Maybe it’s karma for abandoning me to fend for myself in this cruel cruel world.”

The tone of Phil’s voice changes into something more genuine. “I would’ve brought you with me, you know.”

Dan’s heart twinges. “Yeah, well. I’m too skint and you already pay for everything. Plus I genuinely don’t think my parents would have let me go.”

“That’s such bollocks,” Phil says with such fervent sympathy that Dan can’t help smiling. It never escapes him how good it feels to have someone so devoted to being in his corner.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “They act like I’m this massive loser because I don’t have a job.”

“You do, though,” Phil argues. “You make videos.”

“Reckon to them it doesn’t count if I don’t make money.”

Phil is quiet for a moment, then says, “I’m sorry, Dan.” It’s clear that he’s not sure what else to say, and Dan doesn’t blame him for that.

“We can’t all have fairytale parents like yours.”

Phil scoffs. “Trust me, they’re not. They ask me nearly every day what I’m gonna do with my life.”

Dan frowns. “Do they not understand that you’re, like, literally famous?”

“Shut up,” Phil mutters, and Dan can practically _hear_ his blush. “They wanna know why I spent four years and thousands of pounds at uni just to come back to live with them and talk to a camera in my bedroom.”

“At least they’re nice to you,” Dan says quietly. “And you can…” He pauses, pulling his duvet over his head like he can hide from the squirmy sensation in his stomach at this particular topic of conversation. “You can be… you know. Yourself.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Dan chews at his lip for a while, listening to Phil’s very conspicuous silence. When it becomes too much to bear, he blurts, “Have they said anything?”

Phil immediately sounds caged, like a cornered animal or something. “Um. Like, about…?”

“Yeah.”

“Um… I guess… yeah. They— yeah.”

Dan’s skin prickles. “What’d they say? Are they cross?”

“No, that’s not— You’ve been coming round for months, Dan. You’ve spent time with them, you know they’re not—”

“Yeah but— suspecting and _knowing_ are two different things.”

“They’re not cross,” Phil says resolutely. “They’re… awkward. Like… really bloody awkward. And they say weird stuff sometimes, but I reckon it’s just, like… a surprise, you know? Like, mum sat me down the day you went back home and we had a talk.”

“Oh god,” Dan croaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to be like you are now.”

“I’m not,” Dan says automatically.

“You are,” Phil argues. “You’re all freaked out.”

Dan tips his head back against the pillow and stares up at the ceiling in frustration. Phil is wonderful and supportive and compassionate, but he and Dan are not the same. They didn’t have the same experiences.

But at this point, Dan only has himself to blame for not being honest about why this all scares him so much. It’s his fault that Phil doesn’t understand, that Phil can’t comprehend why Dan is being such a freak about something that should probably feel like a relief to him in the same way it does to Phil.

“I’m fine,” he forces himself to say in a steady voice. “Tell me what she said. Please?”

Phil starts coughing, and Dan is wracked with guilt: for joking earlier about not wanting to be near him when he’s poorly, for making him feel guilty for having nice parents, for making everything about him and his problems. For being an all around high maintenance train wreck pretty much every moment of every day.

“I wish I was there,” he says. “I wish I could take care of you.”

“Me too,” Phil says, when he’s finally managed to stop hacking. “Anyway, she asked me if I’m gay.”

Dan’s heart leaps up into his throat, but he swallows it back down before he answers, determined not to give Phil any more reasons not to tell him these sorts of things. “Just like that?”

“Yeah. Very blunt.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Fuck,” Dan mutters.

“Yeah.”

“How’d she react?”

“She asked me why I never told her.”

Dan barks a laugh. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Like I said, awkward. She seemed genuinely upset, like I’d been actively lying to try to hurt her.”

“Jesus.”

“I told her I was afraid she’d look at me differently. Which like, she is, now. But I dunno. I think eventually it’ll feel normal. She said she and my dad are _fine with it_ , they just need some more time to _wrap their heads around it_.”

Dan is so overcome with indignation that he can’t speak.

“I think that’s really the best reaction I could have hoped for,” Phil says. “Probably it would have been worse if they hadn’t been suspecting for so long that you and I were…”

“Yeah,” Dan croaks.

“Anyway, so… yeah. Now they know. I think I’m gonna tell Martyn soon. Maybe tomorrow, since I have the excuse of the plague to hide in my room after if it’s really awkward. I think he’ll be cool, though. Actually, he probably already knows, but I still kind of want to tell him.”

Dan nods, forgetting temporarily that Phil can’t actually see him.

“Are you alright?” Phil asks after the silence stretches out beyond what’s comfortable.

“Yeah,” Dan says quickly. “Sorry. Yeah.”

“I told them your parents don’t know. And that you aren’t ready to really talk about it, so they won’t say anything. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worried.”

“No, I know,” Phil says, “I just mean—”

“I’m not worried.” He says it with more conviction this time.

“Okay.”

“Maybe… maybe I need some time to wrap my head around it too,” Dan says quietly.

“Yeah.” Phil sounds sad.

Dan can’t have it. He won’t be the reason Phil is sad about something he wants to be happy about. “Does this mean I can be as loud as I want when you blow me now?”

“Dan!”

He can perfectly picture Phil’s scandalized expression, the tongue poking out between his teeth, the grin eating up his entire face. “Shit, do I have to like, retroactively ask your dad for your hand?”

“I hate you,” Phil says. It’s the sweetest endearment Dan can imagine.

-

He manages to go about two weeks without any meaningful contact with other human beings outside of the internet, but when Owen, a mate in the loosest sense of the word hits him up and tells him their whole friend group from school is getting together for a reunion of sorts, he’s not quick enough with a lie to excuse him from having to go.

He runs into his mum at the front door on his way out. She’s just coming home from work and they haven’t actually crossed paths in ages, so it’s about as awkward as it could possibly be.

“Where are you going?” she asks, stood on the welcome mat watching him shove his feet into his trainers.

“Out.” He sounds even more petulant than he meant to.

“Will you be drinking?”

He looks at her, ready to throw down if she’s actually going to try to tell his fully grown ass that he can’t have a pub night with his mates. “Probably.”

But instead of trying to lecture him, she starts digging her hands around in her purse, then pulls out some money and holds it out to him. He reaches for it hesitantly, one eyebrow quirked in question.

“Have fun,” she says. “And call a taxi if you need one.”

That pulls him up short. He takes the notes from her hand and shoves them in his pocket. “Thanks mum.”

She surprises him even further by reaching out to push his fringe off his forehead and place a kiss there. “Don’t make a lot of noise when you come in, yeah? Don’t want you waking your brother.”

He’s so thrown off that he doesn’t actually answer her with a mumbled, “I won’t,” until she’s toed out of her shoes and started walking away.

The guys pick him up in Andy’s car, and it’s nostalgic in the worst kind of way. Within five minutes he feels exactly as he had when they were back at school, boxed into a personality that isn’t really his, performing a brand of masculinity he was forced to adopt just to make it out of adolescence alive.

He’s sat in the back seat, wedged between Josh and Dan, the other Dan. Cybergoth Dan. He was always the least awful of the group. His bright red hair and face full of metal always made Dan feel a little less alone. It didn’t stop the lot of them from taking the piss constantly for his own _faggy emo look_ , but at least he wasn’t the only one being singled out for looking different.

Owen, still as preppy and insufferable as ever, turns around in the passenger seat and offers up the joint he’s been smoking. Luckily, Josh is quick to take it so Dan doesn’t have to. He takes a long drag and holds the smoke in before blowing it out directly in Dan’s face.

“Sharing is caring,” he says in his vague Caribbean accent, elbowing Dan with an absolutely massive arm.

Dan laughs. “Thanks, dickhead.” His mind is already spinning trying to come up with excuses for tomorrow when his mum asks him why he smells like a walking grow op.

“Are we picking Tom up?” Other Dan asks.

“Nah, batty boy’s busy,” Josh says, handing the joint back to Owen. “Probably balls deep in Andy’s dad right now.”

Andy takes a hand off the steering wheel to reach back blindly and try to hit him. Dan’s stomach has gone leaden. Things really haven’t changed at all.

“Mate,” Other Dan says. “You can’t say shit like that anymore, he’s _actually_ gay.”

“He ain’t here, I can say what I want, bitch.”

Dan’s thumbnail finds its way to his mouth after that, and within a minute he’s already tasting blood.

They don’t end up going to a pub or even a club. To Dan’s dismay, Andy drives them to the off licence where he buys a ridiculous amount of the shittest booze possible, then back to his. It’s a nice house, one at which they had many a wild party back in the day, but Dan would have been happy never to return to the scene of many nights of drinking himself sick to numb the ever present hum of fear just beneath the surface of his skin.

At least Erin’s not here, he tries to tell himself, claiming for his own an entire bottle of Malibu and tucking himself into the corner of the massive sofa in Andy’s lounge. There’s at least one bedroom in this house that’s been witness to his humiliating inability to perform the duties a teenage boyfriend really shouldn’t have struggled with.

Things he’s never struggled with when it’s Phil on top of him. His stomach squirms even _thinking_ about Phil right now. He tips the sickly sweet rum down his throat, wincing at the burn and hoping inebriation will bring him some kind of relief.

It doesn’t. If anything, he feels worse, because now his defenses are lowered and he’s left dreading the moment the alcohol makes his lips loose enough to say something revealing before he has the good sense to bite it back. So he tries not to talk at all. He zones out while the other guys tell stories of the girls they’re fucking and the crazy uni parties they’re going to at the weekends. None of them took a gap year like Dan, so he has even less to relate to them than he used to.

At least back then he had a girlfriend. He could do a fairly good job of pretending to be one of them. But he’s out of practice now. Being with Phil has made him soft in a way that leaves him vulnerable and exposed, like a turtle on its back. He’s trying to scramble back onto his feet and hide his underbelly, but he’s got nothing to grab for leverage.

Another joint gets passed around, and he tries to laugh goodnaturedly when his refusal to partake earns him the moniker _pussy_. But then Other Dan scoots a little closer to him on the sofa and declares to the group that he doesn’t want any either. Owen dubs them The Gaylord Twins. Cybergoth Dan tells them to fuck off.

Unfortunately, though, Owen’s set his sights on Dan now. “I don’t remember you being such a fucking square, mate.”

Dan fidgets uncomfortably. “Fuck off. I don’t smoke.”

“You do smoke something, though, right?” He leers, lewdly miming a blowjob.

“Yeah,” Dan fires without thinking. “Your fuckin’ mum.”

Owen laughs, apparently appeased, and Dan thinks maybe that’ll be the end of it, but then Josh joins in. “Hey whatever happened to that bird you always used to bring ‘round, what was her name?”

Dan takes a swig of Malibu, then wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Erin,” he says gruffly, while the rum is still burning in his throat. “We broke up ages ago.”

“Really? She was so fit.”

“Way out of your league,” Andy agrees from across the room.

“Yeah, well.” Dan tosses his head to flick his fringe out of his eyes. “Guess she figured that out eventually.”

“I heard it was you who dumped her,” Andy says.

Dan would like nothing more than for the earth to be struck by a meteor. He vows if he makes it through this night alive he’ll never ever speak to any of these wankers again as long as he lives. He’d rather die of loneliness than spend another evening feeling like every cell in his wretched body is somehow built wrong.

“It was a mutual decision,” he croaks. “We work better as mates.”

“You really are a bender, aren’t you, Howell.” Josh takes takes a long hit off the joint and coughs a little on the exhale. “Tell the truth, you dumped Erin so you could bum that bloke with the hair, yeah? The one you’re always fucking flirting with on the internet?”

Dan’s convinced his entire stomach has dropped right out of his ass. “What?”

“We’ve seen the videos, mate,” Owen says. “We were all talking about it before we picked you up.”

His head is spinning, the booze in his stomach suddenly threatening to come right back up. “We’re _friends_ ,” Dan says through gritted teeth.

“Sure don’t look like it.”

He makes a decision, then. In a split second, without any real thought for how it’ll make him feel later, he says the thing he’s sure will get them off his back. “People like that shit.”

“People?” Andy asks. “What people? Like what?”

“The fans,” Dan says. “They like… they wanna believe—” He can’t say it. He can’t spell it out for them, so he just skips that part. “We just play it up a little ‘cause it gets us more views.” He can feel his heart shattering in real time, bile burning on the back of his tongue.

“That’s fucked up, Howell,” Josh says.

Dan replies with, “I know,” though he’s not referring to the same thing Josh is.

And then Cybergoth Dan’s voice cuts through all the bullshit like some kind of truth siren. “You lot are a bunch of homophobic fuckwits, you know that, right?”

Josh laughs. Dan feels like he’s going to cry. He can’t even say anything in his own defense.

“Got anything you wanna tell us, Danny?” Andy taunts.

“If I did, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be telling it to you.”

Dan stands up on shaky legs. “I need a piss,” he blurts, all but running from the room and down the hall to the toilet without waiting for any kind of response. It probably looks suspicious, but it’s still less so than having a fucking panic attack right in front of them. He locks the door behind him and then slides down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. His breaths come rapid and ragged and he squeezes his legs against a fresh surge of nausea. If he starts throwing up he won’t be able to stop, and he’ll absolutely never hear the end of it if he’s ill off half a bottle of Malibu.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he feels his mobile buzz against his leg. He’s afraid to check, but he does anyway, guilt and relief flooding his gut in equal measure to see a message from Phil.

_hope ur having fun with ur mates!! miss u bb <3_

He dials Phil’s number, overcome with the need to hear his voice. He needs it more than he’s ever needed anything. He needs to remember what’s real.

“Dan? Are you home already?”

He can’t respond right away. He clears his throat, but his voice is still shaky when he says, “No. I’m hiding in the toilet.”

“What? What happened? Are you alright?”

Dan just breathes, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his phone so tightly against his ear that it starts to hurt.

“Dan?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re freaking me out.”

He scrambles up onto his knees and over to the sink, twisting the faucet on just for the noise of the water. He gets up and sits on the closed lid of the toilet. “I love you,” he says, quiet but fierce.

“I love you too,” Phil says, very clearly bewildered, and yet still so willing to give Dan what he needs.

“No matter what,” Dan says.

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry,” Dan says, and his voice breaks on a sob at the end.

“Jesus, Dan, what happened?”

Suddenly there’s the sound of knuckles rapping on the door. “Yo Howell, did you drown in the bowl? What the fuck, man.”

His whole body stiffens. “I gotta go,” he whispers to Phil. “Wait up for me. Please.” He hangs up before Phil can answer.

He gets up and goes to the sink, splashes some water on his face and then turns the tap off. He stares at his face in the mirror, willing himself to suck it up. It’s not that bad. It’s not even as bad as it used to be, he just forgot what it was like. But he can handle it, and Phil never has to know the vile lies he had to tell to protect himself. Because that’s what they are: lies. Phil is the truth. Loving Phil is the truth, even if he’s not brave enough to share that truth with anyone else right now.

When he can breathe without shuddering, he yanks the door open, steeling himself to re-enter the lion’s den. Instead he jumps, a strangled cry getting stuck in his throat when there’s a person waiting _right_ there.

“What the—”

Cybergoth Dan is there, looking at Dan with something like concern. “Alright, mate?” He puts a hand on Dan’s shoulder.

“Um.”

“Don’t listen to them. They’re assholes, just like they always were.”

Dan’s mouth opens, but no words come out.

“If I’d known Tom was gonna bail last minute, I wouldn’t have bothered coming either.”

“I…”

“It’s okay,” Cybergoth Dan says gently, giving Dan’s shoulder a squeeze. “I won’t say anything.”

When Dan still can’t find the wherewithal to form a coherent sentence, Cybergoth Dan says, “Anyway. We’re gonna play Guitar Hero now. You coming?”

Dan nods. He follows Other Dan back out to the lounge and endures a bit of a bollocking for doing what they assume is unspeakable things to Andy’s toilet, and then they play the game.

And it’s fine. Dan gets through it. He kicks everyone’s ass in the game, then calls a taxi to take him home, ignoring the insistences that he’s a pussy for calling it a night so early.

-

He rings Phil the instant he’s undressed and crawled into bed. Phil answers almost instantly.

“Dan.”

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“I dunno. I think so.”

“What happened?”

Dan’s breathing instantly hitches. “I… It’s… My mates. They’re fucking awful people, and… And I don’t like who I become when I’m around them.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil says softly, though his voice is still slightly gruff from the cough that continues to linger.

“They say such fucking horrible things and I’m too much of a fucking coward to argue. So then I’m no better, really, if anything I’m worse.”

“You’re not worse.”

Dan takes a huge heaving inhale to stem the burgeoning hysterics. “You don’t even know what they said. Or what I said.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know you.”

“Fuck.” His chin quivers. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be all nice to me. I don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t think you’re a very good judge of what you deserve,” Phil says. “So from now on you don’t get an opinion in the matter.”

“Phil—”

“Nope.”

“ _Phil_ —”

“Nope!”

Dan huffs.

“You are a very fucking good person, Dan.”

The curse pulls Dan up short, as does the conviction in Phil’s tone. It splits him open right down the middle, and he’d swear if he reached up to his chest he’d be able to touch the bloody walls of his beating heart. “Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“You love me, right?”

“Dan.” His voice is gentle and almost pleading. “You know I do.”

“I do too,” Dan says. “Love you, not me. You. Even though I think it’s really the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

“It’s not,” Phil says. “It’s everything else that’s scary. This is easy.”

Dan rolls over and buries his face in his pillow just in time for the fabric to muffle the very dramatic sob that bursts forth from his throat. He’s still a bit drunk and more than a little fucked up.

Phil is right, of course. It isn’t loving him that’s scary. It’s everything else.

Phil lets him cry. Dan can hear him breathing on the other end of the line, waiting, listening, holding space for Dan to fall apart and never once making him feel like he doesn’t have a right to be this much of a fucking mess.

Eventually the emotion dulls and the crying stops, and Dan rolls onto his back to breathe in properly.

“Dan. Are you alright?”

He takes a moment to really consider that. “I think so,” he croaks.

“Good,” Phil says brightly. “Because I have some exciting news for you.”

Dan wipes the tracks of moisture from his cheeks. “What?”

“I re-booked tickets for Portugal today.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sunlight streams in through Dan’s window, illuminating the motes of dust that dance through the air free of the laws of gravity. He’s laid out on his bed in his underwear, watching them float, envying them their blissful, mindless existence. Oh to be a wayward speck of dust or cluster of sloughed off skin cells, to have no brain and no heart, no needs or desires. He kicks up his leg and watches the way it disturbs the tiny dotted swirls of reflected sunshine.

It’s gross, really. He should go downstairs and get a wet cloth, wipe down all the untouched surfaces of his room so he isn’t inhaling his own filth with every breath. He should open the window and let in some of the fresh spring air.

He should shower. The sun brings heat now that the chill of winter has been left in the past, and he’s sweating into his bedsheets. He’s letting himself bake, knowing he’s ignoring a very long list of things he could and should be doing. At the moment though, he can’t quite bring himself to give a shit. He just wants to watch the dust.

He hears a car pull up in the drive. It’s the middle of the day, so definitely neither of his parents, unless something catastrophic has occurred. He lies perfectly still and listens to the sound of the front door opening and closing, and then, after a minute, the sound of footsteps on the stairs. It can be one of only two things, and he’s reasonably certain he isn’t about to be murdered by a random stranger whose gait sounds exactly like that of his grandmother.

He only just manages to yank his duvet over his mostly naked body before she pushes his door open.

“Daniel.” She seems surprised, like finding her grandson in his own bedroom is very strange indeed.

“God, nan.” He scoots up to sit, clutching the blanket to his chest. “You could knock.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be here.”

He pushes his sweat-dampened fringe off his forehead and hopes against hope that he somehow looks better than he feels. “It’s summer. I’m having a lie in.”

“It’s two in the afternoon, bear.”

“Well…” He can’t muster the energy to make an excuse beyond: “I stayed up late.”

“Aye, reckon you did.” She stands there, looking at him with eyes that see too much.

He pulls his knees up under the covers, the weight of being seen like this making his skin itch. “I’ll get up.”

“Very good.” She doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here, nan?”

“Your mum asked me to check on you.”

Dan huffs. She always was blunt, just like her daughter, not bothering to make up a story that would make him feel less a pathetic waste of space. “Wow.”

“Get up and have a shower, love. I’ll wait for you downstairs. Make you a cup of tea.” She finally turns to leave and closes the door behind her.

He allows himself thirty seconds of head-in-his-hands wallowing before he gets up and heads to the bathroom. There is pretty much an endless of people he’s disappointed in his life, but the prospect of adding his grandma to it is unthinkable.

So he showers. He brushes his teeth. He gets dressed and even leaves his hair to dry to its natural hobbit-esque state, because every time he does she smiles at him and ruffles the curls and tells him he looks like her little Danny again.

She makes him tea and toast and watches him eat it and he doesn’t argue when she says she wants to take him out and buy him some new clothes. If she wants to treat him like a child, he’s going to let her. He doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t even blame his mum for feeling the need to have him looked in upon.

He’s barely left his bed since returning from the night out at Andy’s. He’s barely eaten, slept all day and stayed up all night. He hasn’t even been speaking to Phil beyond returning his texts. The promise of Portugal could only carry him so far on its wave of excitement before the weight of his own guilt and self loathing dragged him under the surface of water he’d only barely been managing to tread.

And letting Phil see him like this is simply out of the question.

So he lets his grandmother take him out. He lets her choose a shirt he knows he’ll never wear, and then agrees to go back to hers and help her in the garden. He takes a photo of the dirt stains on the knees of his jeans and sends it to Phil with a crude joke as a caption. Phil sends back a shirtless selfie of him by the pool and says something about missing his dirty boy.

Dan laughs, then bites his lip when the emotion instantly shifts the opposite way and his chin quivers with the force of holding back tears. All he can hear is _it gets us more views_ , and he’s drowning again.

-

He has half a mind to ignore Phil’s skype call the next night when it comes over the screen of the laptop burning hot on his thighs. His hair is still curly and his head is still fucked, but he clicks to accept the call because deep down, he’s weak. He wants Phil to make him feel better, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Even if he deserves to live with the weight of all that guilt and shame and loneliness.

He looks so fucking lovely that Dan is immediately lost for words: hair a mess, cheeks sun-singed pink, eyes burning blue. He’s smiling, his whole face lit up just from seeing Dan on the other end of the call.

Then he’s frowning, because Dan can’t find it in himself to return the smile.

He sits up a little straighter against the headboard. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dan says automatically.

“You look upset.”

“I’m not.”

The frown deepens. “Okay.” He waits for Dan to speak, and when Dan can’t, he asks, “Do you want me to hang up?”

Dan shakes his head emphatically. “Please don’t. Just… talk to me. Tell me what you did today, or just… anything.”

“Mostly I sat around being bored and missing you.” He’s so unflinchingly earnest, his eyes unblinking as they study Dan’s face. “It rained all day.”

“Oh yeah?” He clears his throat, willing himself to get his shit together so his voice doesn’t shake. “Was there any lightning?”

“Yeah.” Phil’s expression doesn’t change from that of concern, even though lightning is one of his favourite things.

It just makes Dan feel even more guilty. “Was it cool?”

Phil seems reluctant to answer, but eventually he says, “Yeah. I tried to take pictures for you but I was too slow every time.”

“Maybe we’ll see some in Portugal.” He manages a little smile at the thought.

But Phil is still stony faced. “You still wanna go?”

Dan’s heart jumps. “What?”

“You don’t have to.” Phil flicks his fringe out of his eyes. It’s getting proper long now.

“Do you not want to?” Dan asks.

“Of course _I_ do. But I don’t wanna pressure you, like if you don’t want—”

“That’s not—” He looks down at his keyboard. “Fuck. Please don’t cancel Portugal.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t.”

Phil’s mouth opens and then closes. “Okay,” he says after a long pause. “If that’s what you want.”

Dan shoves at the laptop and hides his face in his hands in sudden and pure frustration. “I’m sorry,” he croaks.

“I can’t see you.”

“Good. I’m a fucking mess.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Phil says softly. “Please? You feel so far away.”

“I _am_ far away,” he mutters into his palms. “You’re far away. Just like always.”

“Not always,” Phil argues. “And not for much longer.”

Dan lifts his head and pulls the computer back onto his lap. Phil is still there, still with concern etched into every inch of his face.

“You know how I said I don’t like who I am when I’m around my mates?” Dan says quietly. “I think it’s more than that. I think I just don’t like myself at all.”

“Dan.”

“I think I actually hate myself.”

“I wish you didn’t.” He looks so sad.

Dan tips his head back and looks up at the ceiling. He can’t take the scrutiny of Phil’s gaze. “I don’t know why you even bother.”

“Maybe because I love you,” Phil says bluntly.

It hits Dan hard, but not in the right way. Not in the way it usually does. It feels like he’s lying by allowing Phil to believe the feelings he has for Dan are real. “But I’m a piece of shit.”

“Actually, you’re not.”

“You don’t know.”

“We had this conversation already,” Phil says, and finally he’s starting to sound a little less than patient. “I _do_ know.”

Dan chews on his lip, staring at his screen so hard his eyes start to burn. “You see the version of me that I let you see.”

“I think I see you.”

Dan opens his mouth to argue, but Phil cuts his off. “Lemme ask you something.” He doesn’t wait for a response. “Do you reckon your parents know you better than I do?”

“No.”

“What about your mates?”

Dan snorts. “Fucking obviously not.”

“What about…” He trails off, looking away for the first time since Dan accepted the call, but only for a moment. “What about your girlfriend?”

“Ex,” Dan says automatically. “Ex-girlfriend. And no, Phil, fuck. Of course not.”

“Your brother? Your grandparents? Your crazy uncle?”

He looks at the ceiling again. “No,” he whispers.

“Can you think of anyone who knows you better than me?”

Dan chews his lip and stares at the screen and shakes his head. “Doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“I know. But I know a lot. And I see things, you know. I’m not an idiot. I see more than you think I do.”

Dan is suddenly reminded of their different in age. Usually it only comes up as a point of personal pride, or something to brag about: his cool older boyfriend. Phil is a bit of a nerd, and hardly more experienced in a lot of things than Dan is, and in some ways Dan was forced to grow up a whole lot faster. So usually those four years feel like nothing more than a number.

But in this moment, Dan feels like a kid. He feels like a fucking _infant_.

“I don’t want you to see the shit parts,” Dan whispers. “I want to be better for you. I want to be… good.”

“You’re so stupid, Dan. You _are_ good.”

Dan squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

“You know what bad people don’t worry about?” Phil asks. “Trying to be good.”

Dan opens his mouth to argue, but the look on Phil’s face stops him. He picks up the laptop and places it next to him on the bed, angled so that Phil can still see him as he pulls his bare legs up to his chest and hugs his knees. “I don’t know why I get like this.”

“I don’t care that you do,” Phil assures him. “I mean, I care. I wish you didn’t feel so bad. And I wish I could be there with you to hold you and love you when you can’t love yourself. But it doesn’t make you any less good.”

“I love you so much,” Dan says weakly. “My whole body hurts with how much I love you. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I fucking hate this place.”

“I know,” Phil murmurs. “I hate it too. I hate what it does to you.”

“I want to fast forward.”

Phil nods. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but it’s still over a week ‘til Portugal.”

Phil’s face brightens. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. I have a serious business meeting in London a few days after I get back!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe you could come up and meet me?”

The prospect of seeing Phil in a matter of days instead of weeks unfurls itself warm and comforting in his chest. “My parents will probably disown me, but fuck it.”

“We can think of an excuse,” Phil promises. “Tell them you have a YouTube thing.”

Dan laughs bitterly. “They don’t give a fuck about that. It might even be worse than just saying I’m going to meet a mate.”

That tempers the smile on Phil’s face. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’m saying I’m not bothered,” Dan says, picking the laptop up and plopping it back down on his thighs. “They already hate me anyway, might as well enjoy myself.”

“This thing I’m going to, this meeting. It’s a sponsorship thing.”

Dan’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Like, someone’s gonna pay you?”

Phil nods. “Hopefully, if the meeting goes alright. Anyway… tell your parents. Tell them it’s your meeting too.”

“They’ll be expecting me to have something to show for it,” Dan says, instantly dejected. “It’ll be pretty obvious I lied when I never actually get a check.”

Phil shakes his head, and it’s the most annoyed Dan’s seen him look in ages. “I don’t understand how your parents could not care. Do they not know how fast your channel is growing? You literally have thousands of fans. You make so many people happy.”

Dan shrugs, though Phil’s words make a small feeling of pride bloom on the inside. “I don’t care. They don’t have to understand. In a few more months I’ll be getting the fuck out of here for good. What are they gonna do, kick me out?”

“If they do, you’ll stay with me,” Phil says without hesitation.

Dan smiles at that. Properly. He smiles and it makes Phil smile, which in turn makes him smile even harder. “God, Phil. I fucking miss the shit out of you.”

“Me too.”

“I forget what you smell like.”

“I smell like mega super amazing rainbow pony kitten unicorn candy mountains,” Phil says without skipping a beat.

“Oh right.” Dan shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.” He’s still smiling. The tight knot of dread and awfulness in the pit of his stomach is starting to unwind itself.

“Your favourite idiot.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t forget what you smell like,” Phil says. “I nicked one of your shirts before you left and I brought it to America with me.”

Dan snorts. “No you didn’t.”

Suddenly Phil stands up and walks away and Dan can hear muffled rustling noises as he stares at Phil’s headboard and pillows. Then he’s back and holding up Dan’s Howl shirt to his webcam.

“You wanker! That’s like one of my favourite shirts!”

Phil lowers it and grins with his tongue between his teeth. “I know. That’s why I needed to keep it.”

“You don’t actually, like, sniff my shirt, do you?”

“Only when I miss you. Which is always. So yes, the answer is yes.”

“You’re a bloody psychopath, you are,” Dan says, shaking his head and failing to keep the huge grin off his face.

“What? It looks good on me.”

Dan cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you actually wear it?”

“Only when no one can see me,” Phil says sheepishly. “S’a bit revealing, innit? I’m not twink-y enough to pull off such a low neckline.”

“Phil!” Dan shrieks, hiding his face in his hands yet again. “I’m not a… that.”

He peeks at his computer through his fingers when Phil tilts his head suggestively and says, “I mean…” and then bites his fucking lip.

Dan kind of hates the heat that rips through him. He’s so fucking easy when Phil looks at him like that. “What, really? Am I a fucking twink?”

“Uh… would that be bad?”

Dan’s not sure he’s got an answer for that. He reckons maybe if Phil wasn’t looking at him like _that_ it might make him feel judged somehow, or stereotyped in a way that felt terrifying, but… he is. He _is_ looking at Dan like that, like he’d lean in and take a bite if there weren’t an entire ocean between them.

“Is that your thing, Phil?” Dan asks, voice dropped down lower than it ever goes unless there’s a significant amount of blood pumping hot through his veins. “You like a good twink?”

The tone of Phil’s voice follows suit. “I like you. You’re my thing.”

“Put the shirt on,” Dan blurts.

Phil smirks. “Yeah?”

Dan nods, and watches as Phil reaches back and grabs his shirt by the back of the neck to pull it off in a movement that’s much more fluid and graceful than anything he’s usually capable of. It makes Dan a little crazy, as does Phil’s bare chest, sunburnt like his cheeks, broad and flat and hitting Dan over the head with the reminder that Phil is very much a grown man.

“Remember the first time you did this for me?” Phil muses as he pulls Dan’s shirt over his head.

“Hmm?”

“You know. Took your clothes off on skype.”

Dan’s too riveted by the way the collar of his own shirt dips low enough on Phil’s chest to expose a bit of the dark hair there to be shy or embarrassed. “Yeah. You were very convincing.”

“We both know you didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do.”

Dan leans back against the bars of his bed frame. He hadn't expected to be so affected by Phil wearing his clothes. “I can’t be held accountable for things I do when I’m horny and sleep deprived.”

“How tired are you right now?”

“Fuck off,” Dan snickers.

“I would like to. That’s my point.”

“You’re right.”

“Wait, I am?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “My shirt looks good on you.”

“Oh.” Phil looks down at himself. “Yeah?”

“Almost as good as it looks off of you.”

Phil looks back up, a huge lascivious grin eating his cheeks. “You _are_ tired, aren’t you?”

“No. I just think you’re fit, is that alright? Can I admire my wife’s hotness without a dumb excuse?”

“You can, as long as I can admire yours.”

Dan reaches his arms out to the sides. “Here I am, bitch. Admire away.”

Phil tilts his head again. “Mm. Too many clothes.”

“I’m not stripping for you. That was a younger man's mistake.”

“Mistake? I seem to remember us both enjoying it quite a lot.”

Dan feels heat flood his cheeks as the memories wash over him: the way his hands shook as he wheeled his chair back to give Phil a good view as he unbuttoned his shirt. The gravelly timber of Phil’s voice as he murmured his appreciation. The quiet sound of clinking metal as Dan unbuckled his belt and the way Phil’s eyes never once wavered from their worshiping gaze on Dan’s body. Dan had never felt more naked than he had that night, like Phil was looking at a lot more than just his skin. He felt beautiful. Wanted. _Seen_.

 _Fuck, you’re gorgeous_ , Phil had said. It was the first time Dan ever heard him say that word, and he was so intoxicated by Phil’s attention that he didn’t think twice about taking himself in hand. _Oh my god, Dan_.

Dan still hears those words echoing in his ears every time he touches himself. It’s a world he likes to live in, one where his body and his pleasure are important, precious things, one where he can show himself to another person and feel accepted. He never had that before Phil. All he had were masks and evasions and little daily confirmations that to be seen was to be rejected.

“I wanna see you,” Dan says, giving in to all the longing he’s felt every night since the last time they were in the same bed.

“I’m right here.” Phil’s voice has taken on a dreamy quality that tells Dan they’re in exactly the same place.

“All of you.”

Phil doesn’t bother with joking objections. It’s not his style. It’s one of the many things Dan loves about him: he’s not shy. If he knows what he wants, he’s not afraid to ask for it. Dan’s not like that, but tonight Phil’s inspiring him. Tonight he’s asking for what he wants, and Phil clearly wants it too, because he’s pushing his laptop down to the edge of his bed without a word. Phil gets on his knees and walks himself back until Dan has a good view.

Dan says, “Keep the shirt on.” Maybe he’s always had it in him to ask for what he wants. Maybe he just needed the right person to give it to him.

Phil grins, then without any further ado, hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his pajamas and pushes them down his thighs. Definitely, definitely not shy. And also not wearing any pants.

A rush of blood surges between Dan’s legs. Phil’s already hard. “It’s kind of ridiculous how fit you are,” Dan says, trying not to be too conspicuous about sliding his hand down inside his pants.

“Do I not get to see you?” Phil pouts.

Dan shakes his head. He squeezes his cock and takes a long look at Phil, cataloguing every curve and hard line before saying, “Come on, lie down. Let’s do this together.”

Phil shuffles forward awkwardly and grabs his laptop, and then the screen goes blurry as he falls back onto his pillows and rearranges the computer on his stomach.

Dan smiles when they’re face to face again. “Hey babe.”

Phil’s answering smile is fucking _radiant_ , and it’s the first time Dan wonders if maybe _babe_ isn’t really a joke to him.

“I miss you,” Phil says. “I miss touching you.”

“I miss you touching me.”

“If I get a hotel room in London, will you stay with me?”

Dan nods, watching Phil’s face intently. There’s something so indescribably hot about knowing he’s touching himself but only being able to see it in the minute changes in his facial expressions. “Then you can touch me for real.”

Phil nods, his teeth dug into his bottom lip. He doesn’t actually say anything, because it’s a known fact that Phil is incredibly shit at multitasking, especially when he’s got a cock in his hand, be it Dan’s or his own. Dan doesn’t hold it against him. He likes how easy it is to gauge how far into things Phil’s gotten when they’re having sex.

That’s not to say that he won’t have a little fun with it though. “Hey Phil.”

“Mmf.”

“Remember that time I wanked you on the train?”

Phil’s face does a very adorable little surprised thing, and if it’s even possible, his cheeks go a bit pinker. “That was the hottest thing of my life,” he croaks, and Dan can tell it takes effort.

Dan hasn’t even pulled himself out of his pants, but it doesn’t do much to deter the rush of sensation at Phil’s rough voice and the heavy-lidded look he’s giving Dan right now. He could drag it out if he wanted to, and he might if he were alone, but Phil hasn’t really gone in for that kind of thing yet. It’s another of his endearing qualities, the impatience. If he’s getting himself off it’s because he wants to come, and it tugs at something low in Dan’s gut to know that anything he’s doing could be helping that along.

He doesn’t tease Phil any more after that, because it’s starting to feel really good for him too. He’d rather watch Phil’s face. He’d rather listen to the noises that would be inaudible if he wasn’t straining to hear them: the gentle rustle of Phil’s sheets as he moves his arm, the puffs of breath that punctuate moments when whatever he’s doing off-screen feels particularly good. Dan thinks Phil is listening to him, too. His parents are asleep down the hall, and his brother is just one room over, so he can’t give Phil much, but it seems to be enough. Whenever he lets slip a breathy grunt or quiet sigh he’s rewarded with something from Phil to match. He watches Phil’s neck stretch long and pale as he tips his head back into the pillow, and the force of his desire to put his mouth there is so strong he’d swear he can taste the salty tang of Phil’s sweat.

It’s better than porn. It _is_ porn. When he swipes his thumb over the tip it’s already leaking. It’s only been a few minutes but his whole body is wound up tight enough to snap. And he could, if he wanted to. He knows it would take exactly three firm tugs and a specific twist of the wrist and he’d be spilling over his fingers, but he wants to wait. He’d said _let’s do this together_ and he wants to make that as literal as possible. So he watches Phil’s face and listens to his breathing as it gets steadily more shaky. His own strokes slow practically to nothing until Phil’s breath catches in his throat and he says, “I’m gonna—” and then he lets instinct take over the rhythm and speed of his fist.

Phil still comes first, because as far as Dan’s concerned synchronized orgasms appear to be a thing of legend, but it’s not far off. It’s close enough to feel like a shared experience, and Dan just sits there against his bed frame for a while afterwards with sticky fingers, watching Phil’s breaths slow from heaving to relaxed.

Once the immediate euphoria has dulled, he rolls over and grabs a dirty shirt off the floor to wipe up with. He’s trying to ignore the heaviness that seems so intent on settling itself right back on top of his chest.

“Dan,” Phil says. “That’s gross.”

“Your mum’s gross.” He settles back down with his laptop in front of him.

“No she’s not, she’s lovely and you know it.”

“Yeah I know. She’s the best mum,” Dan admits. “Let’s not talk about mums right now, though, yeah?”

Phil nods. “Not the best pillow talk.”

Dan snickers. “Pillow talk.”

“Pillow talk me real good, baby.”

Dan scrunches up his face in amused displeasure. “Shut up, I hate you.”

“Clearly.”

“You’re very sexy and I hate you,” Dan amends. “I hate you so much that I might cry later.”

Phil’s expressions shifts instantly to one of concern. Fuck Dan and his stupid fucking post-orgasm honesty.

“Don’t cry,” Phil says softly.

“I’m like a girl,” Dan says. “I need a cuddle after sex.”

Phil frowns. “I don’t think that’s a girl thing. I like that too.”

Dan sighs. “My mates would have something to say about the correlation there.”

The frown deepens. “Your mates sound awful.”

“Yeah. They are. They… I’m not gonna see them anymore. I’ve decided. They make me hate myself.”

“I hate that.” Phils voice is still quiet, still soft, but there’s an edge of fierceness that makes Dan’s heart thump a little harder. “You know whatever rubbish they say isn’t true. It’s just idiots being idiots.”

Dan nods, pointedly looking away from the screen. “I know that. In theory.”

“Dan.”

Dan starts chewing on his lip. It’s almost impressive how fast he’s recovered from the intermission of relief provided by their mutual wank. He’s right back to feeling small and alone, only now there’s the added bonus of feeling just a little bit dirty.

“I feel like I’m doing something wrong,” Phil says when Dan doesn’t answer.

Dan whips his head back to look at the screen. “What? You’re not. It’s me, it’s just me. I’m a twat.”

“You’re not. I must be saying something, or—”

“Can I tell you something,” Dan interrupts loudly.

Phil’s mouth snaps shut. “Yeah. Course you can.”

“I used to get bullied. Like, a lot.”

There’s a long pause. “Your mates bullied you?”

“No. I mean, yeah, they did, they still do, but that’s not— I mean, like, real bullying. Like physical. By people who weren’t my mates.” Dan instantly regrets saying anything. The look on Phil’s face is enough to split his heart in half. “It’s fine,” he continues quickly. “It’s just— you know. Just wanted to tell you.”

“It’s not fine, Dan. How can you say it’s fine? They actually hit you?”

“It’s not fine, I didn’t mean it like that, I just— I’m sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“ _Me_? Why are you worrying about me?”

“Because… because it’s just me being all dramatic and depressed, yet again. Eventually you’re gonna get tired of that.”

“Actually, what I’m gonna get tired of is you assuming the worst of me,” Phil snaps. Dan’s heart is pounding too painfully hard to respond right away, so Phil continues. “I had no idea that… When you said you hated school I assumed it was the usual stuff, or like, how it was for me. Knowing you were into guys and feeling guilty or whatever.”

“I mean, that too. I used to lie awake and beg the universe to just make me straight.”

“Did they bully you because of… because of that?”

Dan nods. “It started way before I even knew I was. Like they could smell it on me.”

“I wish I could go back in time and…” He trails off. “I dunno. Be your friend.”

Dan smiles weakly. “Me too.”

“I’m here now though.” Phil’s hand drifts up towards the screen like he’s forgotten that he can’t just reach out and touch.

God, how Dan wishes he could. He aches for it now even more than he had ten minutes ago. And he’s realizing more and more with each passing day that it’s _really_ not about the sex. It’s not even about romance, not entirely anyway. He’s not sure he has the capacity to make sense of it just yet. The way he feels in private pockets of time with Phil is like nothing he’s ever experienced. In moments like this it doesn’t even feel entirely real.

“You are,” he says quietly.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with it, right?” Phil asks. “I know that probably sounds daft. I feel daft saying it, but… it’s true. There’s nothing wrong with… with us. With this.” He gestures towards his screen, and thus towards Dan. “Anyone who doesn’t understand that doesn’t deserve to have opinions. Or legs.”

Dan laughs, too long and too loud for what was really a very lame joke, but it feels good to shake away some of the heaviness. “Should we become the Batman and Robin of chopping off homophobic dickheads’ legs?”

“Only if I’m Batman,” Phil says.

“What the hell?” Dan protests. “Why am I the sidekick?”

“Because… your mum!”

-

London is like a breath of fresh air.

Not literally. It’s pretty dirty, actually. But it’s big. It’s big and it’s full of people, which means no one really notices or cares if a couple of floppy haired emo-adjacent noodle boys happen to be a little more touchy than what has been societally categorized appropriate for public consumption. They’re wandering around and exploring the shops close to the train station, talking about everything and nothing and bumping shoulders and soaking in the relief of being in the same place again after such an extended separation.

Phil’s meeting hadn’t gone all that long, and as soon as it was done he’d met up with Dan and taken him to Thorpe Park. They’d ridden Stealth, which Phil had informed Dan was the second fastest rollercoaster in the UK after the Big One, which they’d ridden just a few weeks earlier in Blackpool.

“Shall we abandon uni and YouTube and make it our life’s mission to ride all the world’s fastest roller coasters?” Dan had teased.

Phil had said, “Yeah,” and then quickly afterward, “Actually no. I’m gonna be sick.”

He hadn’t, but he hadn’t been far off.

Dan hadn’t told his mum he was going to be spending the day in London, nor had he told her he’d be bringing Phil home with him to spend the night. And the next day. And hopefully another night, if he has his way. He reckons she won’t actually notice he’s gone. He can avoid being made to feel guilty for prioritizing fun over any of the boring serious business shit she’d rather he be doing, and once Phil’s there she wouldn’t dream of telling him he couldn’t stay.

The thing is that Phil _is_ doing serious business. And if Phil can do serious business, that means Dan might be able to as well, some day. Because Phil was right, Dan’s subscriber count is growing by the day. People actually care about the dumb shit he says on Twitter. They _like_ him, as weird as that is to wrap his head around. Every new video gets more views than the last, and the ones with Phil are so popular that it makes him sweat when he really thinks about it.

They don’t play anything up for views. That had been a necessary evil of a lie that Dan’s starting to suspect will haunt him forever. It’s the opposite of the truth, because for every fond smile and lingering gaze they leave in their videos, fifty more get cut out. They’re actually playing _down_ the truth significantly.

But people obviously like them together. It _does_ get them more views. And that makes Dan sweat, too, because he likes it. He really fucking likes getting those views.

“Okay so.” Phil interrupts Dan’s thoughts when he grabs the sleeve of Dan’s shirt and drags him over to a sofa at the back of the Starbucks Phil insisted they go to. As soon as their asses hit the seat he’s stage whispering excitedly, “I’m not supposed to say anything, but… I might be going to Jamaica.”

“Wait, really? Is that what the spon thing is about?”

Phil nods. “It’s some underwater camera company. They wanna pay a bunch of YouTubers to go there and just film a bunch of stuff with their equipment.”

“Wow.”

“I know. It’s so cool.”

“I’m not jealous at all.”

Phil smiles at him. “You know what you are, Dan? You’re a frickin’ YouTuber.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “They didn’t invite _me_.”

“Yeah but they invited me. And it seems like they really want me.”

Dan picks up his mug and sips some sweet foam off the top of his macchiato. “Course they do. You’re awesome.”

“What I’m _saying_ is that maybe I have some leverage.”

Dan frowns at him. “What, like… you’ll say they can’t have you without me?”

Phil shrugs. “Just an idea.”

“You’d do that?”

“Um… Is that a trick question?” Phil narrows his eyes as he looks at Dan intently. “Is it bad to say yes?”

“Only if you’d be upset if I jumped you right here and now.”

Phil beams. “Then yes. Yes, I definitely would.”

Dan leans his weight against Phil. He wants to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder, but he’s not quite that brave. Phil doesn’t always get recognized when they go out, but he definitely does sometimes, so pressing himself against the side of Phil’s body will have to do. For now.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t,” Phil murmurs, bumping his knee against Dan’s. “I want to.”

Dan just looks at him. He allows himself that small indulgence, because it’s been a while since this face was so close to his without the filter of a computer screen.

It’s such a good face, and it’s attached to an even better person. Dan’s very favourite person, in fact. “I want to kiss you,” he says matter-of-factly.

“That sounds fun, I could be up for that.”

-

The only thing that makes Dan’s bedroom better than Phil’s is the lock on the door. He’d installed it himself at fifteen and hasn’t regretted it once, least of all tonight, when he’s painted up against the side of a long soft body, cheek pressed to the front of a bony shoulder, eyes trained on the screen of the computer perched on Phil’s stomach. One of Phil’s arms is nestled snugly under Dan’s neck, the other reached forward to scroll through the Google search results for _things to do in Portugal_.

“We should go to the world’s oldest bookstore,” Phil says.

Dan chuckles, tipping his head back to nuzzle his face into the crook of Phil’s neck. “That sounds excessively boring,” he murmurs against Phil’s skin.

“Oi, it’s not. It’s romantic.” He turns his head so he can catch Dan’s lips with his. Their kiss is the slow, syrupy kind that comes from a mixture of deep contentment and exhaustion. Whatever had remained of their energy after the train ride to Wokigham has long since been expended on enthusiastic exploration of each other’s bodies. Night has rolled over into morning now, and the only light in the room is the glow of Dan’s ancient tank of a laptop as it promises ancient architectural wonders, hills of pastel coloured buildings, picturesque beaches and more than anything, a chance for the two of them to be well and truly alone together.

Dan’s heavy eyes eventually lose the battle to stay open, but he’s not asleep. Not yet. He’s got a leg hitched over Phil’s thigh, a hand hooked loosely ‘round the side of Phil’s neck. He can tell that when he does fall asleep, it’s going to be epic. It’s going to be the kind of sleep that so often eludes him in favour of anxious thought spirals and unsettling dreams. In this moment, in this tiny bed with this giant man, all is right with the world, and he’s going to enjoy the fuck out of it.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he feels more than hears the deep cadence of Phil’s voice rumbling against his cheek.

“Mm, what?”

Phil sounds dreamy and far away when he says, “According to this article, something we could do on this trip is get married.”

“Huh?” Dan tries to pry his eyes open so he can see what Phil’s seeing, but he can’t seem to make them cooperate. So he grunts, “thought you were already my wife,” and burrows himself further into the warmth of Phil’s chest.

“Yeah, but—”

Dan grunts a little sleepy noise, fumbling his arm downwards to push the laptop off Phil’s body. “Away,” he murmurs. “Sleep time.” He’s not got the mental capacity to process anything Phil’s talking about anymore.

Phil laughs all breathy and fond and Dan hears the sound of his laptop being relocated to the floor, and then Phil’s arm wraps around him. “You turn into an actual child when you’re tired,” he says into Dan’s hair. “It’s extremely adorable.”

“Mmf.”

He laughs again. “Alright, goodnight baby Dan. We’ll plan our wedding in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to mandy for all the canon help and listening to me bitch constantly about how hard this thing is to write and for still managing to make me feel like it’s worth it


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for homophobic slur

Dan sits in his kitchen with a bowl of cereal in front of him. Across the table, Phil is too busy shoveling Shreddies into his gob to notice that Dan is staring.

“Is it still considered breakfast if it’s late enough to be lunch?” Dan asks.

“Yes.”

Dan takes a bite. The little brown lattices of wheat are already starting to go soggy. “This is a sad breakfast-lunch.”

“Otherwise known as brunch.”

Dan shakes his head. “As a future lawyer I can tell you that brunch is legally required to contain bacon.”

Phil looks up from his bowl. “Do you have any?”

“Probably not. Mum doesn’t really eat much meat anymore. She says if I want something I can get it myself.”

Phil just clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Breakfast for lunch, then.” His hair is wild in all its bed-headed glory, scarcely worn glasses perched low on his nose as he stares at his milky mush like it’ll run away if he takes his eyes off it. He’s all long lines and softness in a hoodie from York, looking like he wandered in from Dan’s fantasy of a safe and settled life.

“When do you have to leave?” Dan asks. At the risk of crushing disappointment, he adds, “Can you stay another day?”

Phil lifts his face, shoving his glasses back up to the bridge of his beak. “Yeah.”

“Will you?”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yes. Duh. We’re gonna film something, aren’t we? Something for your channel?”

Dan smiles, nodding enthusiastically. His parents are at work as always, and there’s no risk of lurking grandmothers as she just so happens to have taken Adrian out for the day. He and Phil have the house to themselves for now, and as much as the horny teenage lobe of his cortex lights up immediately with images of filth and debauchery, filming a video actually sounds even nicer.

-

It’s possible some of that not-so-post adolescent randiness bleeds out of him as the camera rolls, but to be fair, the questions Phil pulled off of Dan’s Twitter do absolutely nothing to dissuade it. The ghost of _it gets us more views_ echoes in his head, but he shoves it away. He and Phil get views because people like them - that’s why they sent in these fucking ridiculous questions. 

Questions that have Phil saying things like _penis penis penis, Dan_ and _I like spaghetti, let’s go fuck_ and _can I come to your house and touch you while you sleep?_ Dan ends up miming fellatio on his microphone and pulling out his glowing blue lava lamp dick and agreeing to a threesome with Phil and Professor Oak, among many other things that are just… super fucking gay. 

Normally that would scare him. And maybe later it will, but in the moment it just feels freeing to make the kind of jokes he’s always wanted to make. This is what always seems to happen when Phil is around - Dan gets comfortable. Dan feels free. Especially when there are four solid walls closing them off from the rest of the world. The future audience behind the camera is nebulous enough to feel less like a threat and more like some kind of weird invisible friend.

Future editing Dan may curse current Dan. It’s happened before. But planning ahead has never really been Dan’s strong suit unless those plans include maximizing time spent in the company of a fit bloke with black hair and ridiculous swimming pools for eyes. So he sits on his bed and transfers the footage from his camera to his laptop and triple checks that it’s saved before he puts it out of his mind. 

But leaning back against his headboard with a computer on his lap sparks a hazy memory that had been lying temporarily dormant. He looks up from his screen and over at Phil, who’s sat on the floor scrolling on his phone with his head tilted back against Dan’s mattress.

“Phil.”

“What,” he grunts without lifting his gaze from whatever’s got his attention.

“Did you say we could married?”

Phil drops the hand holding his mobile into his lap and rolls his head to look in Dan’s direction. He’s got fond amusement written all over his face. “Wow, babe. Only like fifteen hours worth of delayed reaction there.”

“Elaborate.”

Phil shrugs, sliding his phone into his pocket and reaching up to wrap his palm around Dan’s ankle. “I just saw the article and thought it was funny. Funny timing.”

Dan waits for further explanation. None comes. “What are you on about?”

“They’re legalizing same sex marriage in Portugal the day we’re meant to arrive.”

Dan scoffs. “Wow. Took their sweet time with that, then, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, really.” He strokes his thumb gently back and forth across the jut of bone on the inside of Dan’s ankle. “Still better than us, though,” he says softly. Sadly.

Dan frowns. “Us? We’ve been dating for like, what? Six months?”

“Not _us_ us. I meant, like, the royal us.”

Dan’s frown deepens. He’s not trying to be dense, but he truly doesn’t understand. Phil is searching Dan’s face, his eyes flitting back and forth between Dan’s, waiting for the punchline. 

“What are you talking about?” Dan finally has to ask.

“I’m talking about… the UK? And how gay marriage is still illegal here?”

“What.” It doesn’t even come out like a question.

“Did you not know that?” Phil asks. He’s kind enough to stop short of asking _how_ Dan didn’t know that, but Dan can read between the lines just fine, and he doesn’t need Phil’s help to feel like a complete and utter moron.

He doesn’t really have anything to say in his defence. “I… you’re serious?”

Phil nods. 

“It’s 2010, for fuck’s sake,” Dan spits, the feeling of stupidity cushioned suddenly by a deep and all-consuming rage. He slams the screen of his laptop down and pulls his leg out of Phil’s gentle grasp. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. He sounds small and sad, sat on Dan’s floor looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

But it’s too late. A litany of angry, self-hating thoughts are already boiling in Dan’s gut, and he’s as helpless to control them as he’s ever been. “Gay people exist.”

“Yeah, they do,” Phil says. “We do.”

“What’s so horrible about it?” Dan demands. “Why does everyone hate it so much?” He doesn’t wait for any kind of response. “I’m pretty sure it’s legal to marry your fucking cousin. You can literally marry your own fucking family as long as it’s no homo.”

Phil winces slightly, dropping his gaze from Dan’s face. “Yeah.”

Only the prospect of hurting Phil could deflate Dan’s righteous anger, and that’s exactly what it does. He pushes his computer off his lap and maneuvers himself so he’s lying on his stomach with his face just a few inches from Phil’s. “I didn’t know. I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not.”

“It makes me…” He closes his eyes and drops his head forward so their foreheads thunk together. “It makes me wanna break things.”

Phil nods. “It’s bullshit.”

“It makes me wanna go to Portugal and marry you just to spite all the assholes.”

Phil huffs a warmth breath of laughter against Dan’s cheek. “So romantic.”

“It’s like…” Dan keeps his eyes closed, as if the depth of the vulnerability he’s about to express doesn’t exist if he can’t watch Phil’s reaction to it. “Like I’m so scared of it all the time. I always have been. I beat myself up for it so much and spend so much time hating myself. But then sometimes a part of me just wants to be like… like fuck you, yeah I’m a… a fucking _fag_ and I like dick and you’re gonna watch me and fuck you if you don’t like it.”

Phil doesn’t say anything at first. Dan’s heart is beating so far up into his throat he can practically taste it. 

“Sorry,” Dan mutters, when the silence is too much to bear. They’re still pressed together at the forehead and the touch feels unbearable now, but to pull away would feel even worse.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Phil says quietly.

Dan nods.

“I mean it, Dan.”

“I know. I mean, in theory, I know that.”

“It’s natural. It happens in nature all the time. And we didn’t choose it. We were born like this, it’s part of who we are.”

Dan nods again. He opens his eyes to the slightly blurred colours of Phil’s eyes. He reaches out and hooks his hand around the back of Phil’s neck. “I know.”

“And, like… even if we _did_ choose it…” He trails off.

Dan squeezes Phil’s neck, probably too hard. 

“I love you,” Phil continues. “That can’t be wrong. It can’t be wrong to feel happier than I’ve ever felt before in my life.”

“It’s not,” Dan chokes. “I’m really sorry. My brain is all fucked up but it doesn’t mean I don’t—”

Phil cuts him off with a kiss almost violent in its urgency, but Dan matches it right away. His breaths are ragged against Phil’s mouth, and within a few seconds he’s pulling Phil up and rolling onto his back so Phil is on top of him. He opens his legs and Phil fills the space up without a moment’s hesitation. They fit together just right, and _Phil_ is right - it’s natural. It’s the most natural thing in the world. 

It’s the most natural Dan has ever felt, far more than when it was Erin on top of him. Every nerve ending in his body sings when Phil touches him. Phil kisses down his jaw and starts mouthing at his neck like he’s desperate for it and Dan feels like he’s on fire. If this is wrong, then everything good in the world must also be wrong. If this is unnatural, then Dan doesn’t even understand the meaning of the word. 

He reaches down between them and shoves his hand right into Phil’s pants indelicately, curling his fingers around warm hardness as best he can given the awkward angle and the restriction of Phil’s shorts. “I love this,” he says. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Phil bites Dan’s neck, a proper teeth-sinking-into-flesh kind of bite and Dan gasps. It hurts. 

Maybe Phil wants to hurt him a little. Dan wouldn’t blame him. It’s not like Dan doesn’t hurt Phil every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth and implies that Phil is some sort of dirty secret shame.

“Fuck me,” Dan says, hooking a socked toe inside the elastic waistband of the back of Phil’s boxers and trying to pull down. “Please.”

He expects some sort of well-meaning protest. 

He doesn’t get one. Phil pulls back without a word and his hands go straight for the button on Dan’s shorts. Dan pushes him away and takes over, knowing he’ll be able to get the job done faster. Suddenly it feels absolutely imperative that Phil be inside him as quickly as humanly possible. He gets the fly open and yanks the shorts and his pants off in one go, then twists around to reach between his mattress and bed frame where he hides the lube and condoms.

He pushes the lube into Phil’s hands the second Phil’s got his own kit off, spreading his legs without shame.

Without shame. There’s none of that left now, not when he can see how hard Phil’s cock is as he slicks up two fingers and then falls forward to kiss Dan while he works one inside. He’s not as gentle as he usually is, and Dan’s glad. If he felt alone in his urgency, there might be a little space for shame.

Right now he feels the exact opposite. He wants to bathe in how bent he is. He wants to feel as gay as possible. Phil’s only just starting to _try_ to work a second finger in and Dan’s already tearing the condom packet open with his teeth. He nudges Phil with a knee as if to say _I’m good_ , and again is surprised when there’s no chivalrous assertion on Phil’s part that they have to take the time to make sure Dan is fully stretched. He pulls his finger out and Dan sits up and leans forward to roll the condom down.

Dan squeezes some lube out and rubs it against himself like an afterthought. Phil twists around to grab a pillow and shove it under Dan’s hips, and Dan doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his fucking life. He grabs Phil’s shoulders and pulls him down on top of him without finesse, his impatience so all-consuming that he doesn’t even wait for Phil to do the work of pushing inside. He reaches down and takes Phil’s cock and lines it up against himself. 

They’re both still wearing their shirts. They’re both still wearing their socks. Dan hooks an arm around the back of Phil’s neck and says, “Fuck me, Phil,” and Phil pushes in, slow but steady.

The sensation of stretching is so intense that Dan can’t bite back his hiss. Phil stills immediately, and Dan is forced to tell him to go slower. 

The energy in the room shifts then. Phil puts a big gentle hand on Dan’s hip and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose and suddenly Dan feels like a puddle. The heat fizzles into warmth. He’s in danger of bursting into tears, but he takes a huge deep breath and expels that particular impulse on the exhale. There’s no way Phil would consent to sex with a crying Dan, and Dan does still _really_ want to have sex.

“You okay?” Phil asks.

Dan nods. “I love you. Keep going.”

He does, very slowly, very gently, his eyes wide open and staring into Dan’s to take in every minute shift in Dan’s expression. Dan has that feeling again that he’s only felt a handful of times in his life, of being really seen to the core of who he is and what he wants.

“I would choose you,” Dan says, as Phil pulls his hips back a little and pushes in again a tiny bit deeper.

“Hm?”

“If it wasn’t natural,” Dan says. “If it was a choice, I’d choose you.” 

Phil kisses him. Dan wraps his legs around Phil’s waist and kisses back, tongue dragging lightly against the wet velvet inside of Phil’s upper lip. He’s not really sure of the truth of his statement, but only because he doubts his own ability to be brave. If he was who he wishes he could be, he’d choose Phil over and over, in any world, in any life, without hesitation. 

He keeps his arm wrapped around Phil’s shoulders as Phil makes love to him, because that’s what it is. That’s the only way to describe the way their bodies work together and the way it makes Dan feel full and safe and cared for. Eventually it starts to feel good in the carnal way too, once his body has adjusted to Phil’s size and he’s no longer on the verge of tears. And there’s still no shame as he bites at Phil’s earlobe and tells him how much he likes it.

It helps to have an abundance of evidence that Phil really likes it too. As much as Phil likes to talk in everyday life, between the sheets he’s a man of few words, and more importantly, few _noises_ , so when he does make them, they mean a lot. They shoot sparks through Dan’s skin and blood to his dick, and Phil is making a lot of little noises today. 

It feels good to know that they work as well together in this way as they seem to in every other. Phil wasn’t Dan’s first, but it was never like this with any of the random guys he hooked up with on his whirlwind post-Erin queerness-affirmation tour of 2009. It was just sex. And sex with Phil is so much more than sex. 

Dan doesn’t consider himself good at many things, but he’s good at this. He’s good at being with Phil, especially when he keeps his fucking mouth shut.

Dan is achingly hard, but he doesn’t even consider touching himself. He clings to Phil and chooses instead to focus on the way Phil is sliding in and out easily now. It makes him feel exactly what he was desperate for earlier. It makes him feel super fucking gay.

“You’re so good,” he breathes into Phil’s ear. 

Phil reaches down and squeezes Dan’s cock. He’s not got enough coordination to do anything that’ll get Dan off, but it still makes him whimper. His hands are so big and warm and soft. So possessive. Dan’s greedy for that, for feeling like they belong to each other. 

He’s still feeling greedy for it even when the sex part is over, when they’ve both come and cleaned up and they’re lying in Dan’s tiny little bed tucked under the duvet and away from the world. He wants to burrow down into Phil’s consciousness and mark his name there permanently. He wants to tattoo himself on Phil’s rib cage and maybe take a little piece of Phil’s heart to keep for himself.

It’s possible he’s feeling a little dramatic today. He’s self aware enough to recognize that his feelings are abnormally big, but that doesn’t mean he can stop himself feeling them. 

Phil’s cheek is pressed to Dan’s chest, his hand pushed up under Dan’s shirt to trace lazy circles on Dan’s stomach. “You scare me sometimes.”

Dan closes his eyes and swallows down the instinct to panic. “I’m sorry.”

Phil just nods, his fingertip never wavering from making its patterns on Dan’s skin.

“Can I use the teenager excuse again?” Dan asks.

“You’re not a teenager.”

“Alright, so I’m just an idiot, then.”

Phil lifts his head. “You’re not that either. Definitely not that.”

“Can you please just tell me you forgive me?” Dan says quietly.

“There’s nothing to forgive. It’s part of what I love about you. You feel everything so deeply. It’s scary sometimes but it’s also amazing.” He lays his head back down in time for Dan to bite his wobbling lip.

“You make me feel a lot,” he says when the latest wave of emotion has crested.

Phil turns his face in towards Dan’s chest and plants a kiss there through the material. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. With the whole marriage thing.”

“It’s not your fault we live in an ass backwards world that’s full of people hell-bent on making anyone who’s even a little bit different hate themselves. I just can’t believe we live in the bloody United Kingdom and we couldn’t get married even if we wanted to just because we both have willies.”

Phil snorts softly. “Yeah. It’s ridiculous.”

“Should we get married, then?” Dan asks. “Make it official?”

Phil nods. “Sure. Sounds nice.”

“Will you be my best man?”

Phil laughs again. “Yeah, sure. Will you be mine?”

“Nah, mate, you have actual friends. You could ask PJ or Chris, or like, Martyn or something.” He mentally scans through the list of people Phil knows. “Not Charlie though. No one whose body you’ve thought about while wanking.”

“In that case PJ’s out.”

Dan smacks him none too gently on the back. Phil laughs, pushing his face into Dan’s shirt.

“Oh!” Dan tugs gently on Phil’s hair. “You could ask Bryony.”

“I could ask Bryony to be my best man?” Phil asks bemusedly. 

“Yeah, don’t be sexist. She’d make a great best man. Imagine the stag party she’d throw you.”

“Bit last minute, innit?” He lifts his head and digs his chin right into Dan’s sternum. “Anyway, wouldn’t mine be a hen party since I’m the wife?”

“Shut up.” Dan tugs Phil’s fringe this time. “We’re both stags. That’s the whole point.”

Phil smiles. “We are, you’re right.” He keeps looking at Dan and Dan looks back, watching as Phil’s smile slowly shifts into his resting facial expression. Then Phil says, “Anyway, I can't ask Bryony.”

Dan frowns. “Please do not tell me you’ve fantasized about Bryony.”

“No. She doesn’t know about us.”

For maybe the first time ever, Dan’s reaction to being successfully closeted is a sinking-gut feeling. “Oh.”

“She probably suspects, because she knows I’m gay and you’re my type and I spend as much time with you as I can physically get away with. She’s not stupid. But I’ve never actually told her.”

“Right.”

Phil shifts to the side a little and props his weight up on his elbow. “Is that bad?”

“No.” Dan looks up at Phil’s face. “Yeah. Maybe. I dunno.”

“I thought you didn’t really wanna tell people.”

Dan shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I dunno.”

“Use your big boy words, Dan.”

Dan laughs while simultaneously shoving Phil none too gently in the shoulder. “Fuck off, I hate you.”

When Phil’s managed to stop giggling, he sets Dan with a look that’s blinding in its affection. “We don’t need best men,” he says softly. “We’re already the best.”

“You are, anyway.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “This is probably the daftest argument we’ve ever had. Hypothetical best men for our non-existent wedding.”

“It’s not a real argument, don’t say that.” Dan reaches up and slings his arm around Phil’s shoulders to pull him back down. “And who says it’s non-existent? I bet if you got drunk enough and I begged, you’d marry me.”

Phil grins with his tongue stuck between his teeth. “Yeah, totally.”

He says it playfully. It’s just a joke.

-

Mostly. 

Because Phil has a hint of a smile on his face when Dan picks his laptop back up off the floor and starts googling locations for civil ceremonies in Lisbon. 

Because later, when they venture out to Costa to get a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste like the inside of Dan’s cupboard, Phil pays for Dan’s macchiato and says Mr. Striker to the barista when she asks for his name.

Because when they’re killing time at the shops to avoid going back to Dan’s house now that his grandma and Adrian have returned, Dan’s eyes catch on the glint of a jewellery display and he finds himself fantasizing about how hot a plain gold band would look on Phil’s finger. He ends up buying a cheap pair of studs for his ears just for an excuse to spend a few extra minutes looking at rings and letting his imagination get away from him.

He’s not thinking about marriage. He’s eighteen years old. He’s skint. He hasn’t even started at university yet. He’s a bit of a train wreck, just generally, and he’s still barely even come to terms with the fact that Phil wants to _date_ him. He’s already living his fifteen year old self’s wet dream, he doesn’t need to add another level of surreal to the strange fever dream that has been the last seven or eight months of his life. 

He has two solid, real world examples of putting the concept of marriage into practice (his grandparents and his parents) and fifty percent of those examples lend themselves to the conclusion that that shit just isn’t worth the grief it can cause.

And anyway, the whole idea of permanence makes him sweat.

In pretty much every context _besides_ Phil. With Phil, the word _forever_ feels like a promise he can make, and one he wants Phil to make to him. 

So, it’s a joke. Mostly.

Except when Phil calls Dan a bad fiancée the next morning for stealing all the blankets. Except when they’re stood next to each other in the bathroom brushing their teeth and Dan can clearly see them as old men, still together, still bumping shoulders and taking turns spitting minty foam into the sink. It’ll be a different sink, and maybe Phil won’t have an emo fringe anymore and Dan will actually be capable of growing facial hair, but it’ll still be them. And that’s the kind of permanence that makes a tiny, over dramatic, reckless part of Dan’s soul tempt him into considering that it’s really not a joke at all.

-

p: Should I pack a tux??

d: do u HAVE a tux

p: No but I could probably get one

d: aren’t they like massively expensive tho

p: Don’t you want me to look good when I become your official ball and chain??

d: you always look good idiot

p: Sooo save my money for post-wedding post-newlywed-mind-blowing-sex room service. Got it 

-

p: Do you by any chance happen to have a long form birth certificate?

d: just casual questions that are totally normal to ask with absolutely no context whatsoever

p: Answer the question, Howell

d: um yeah i actually do bc i needed one for my work experience 

p: Brilliant. Make sure you pack it, can’t get married in a foreign country without it!

d: i’ll marry ur mum 

-

p: How do you feel about ring pops?

d: phil it’s four o’clock in the morning what the fuck

p: I can’t sleep, we’re going to Portugal in two days!! Oh wait, technically one day!

d: if this is yet another asinine wedding thing i stg

p: No ring pop, got it

d: platinum or nothing bb

p: P.S. your face is asinine and yes I had to look up what that word actually meant :P

d: go to sleep idiot

Dan doesn’t go to sleep. In all honesty, he’d been wide awake when Phil texted him. He hasn’t actually slept much in ages. 

Phil is very good at beating a joke to death. Like, seriously. That thing has been dead for _days_ , but Dan doesn’t know how to say _actually babe could you maybe stop joking about something that has kind of worked its way into my head and taken root there like some kind of invasive parasite, ‘cause I know you say I’m not a teenager but I kind of sort of technically am and my decision making skills are still questionable at best and I really don’t need to be fantasizing about calling you my husband because at this point i reckon i might be genuinely disappointed when it turns out you really were just joking?_ \- so instead he’s just been playing along. 

The thing is, he’s never had anything that was well and truly _his_. And yeah, Phil is his boyfriend, and they’re super exclusive, and by all accounts both pretty committed to a long-haul type of situation, but… fuck. _Fuck_. Marrying Phil would make it so incredibly official. 

-

Dan has to be up fairly early in the morning to take a train into London and meet Phil at the airport, so of _course_ he’s kept awake for a large portion of the night by the dulcet tones of his parents screaming at each other.

He doesn’t know why. He never really does. Somehow the sheer volume of their shouted accusations never translates into Dan being able to make out what they’re actually saying, but his dad sounds angry and his mum sounds defensive, and neither of them seem to give one flying fuck about the two children they’ve got sleeping in rooms just a few meters down the hall.

The timing is truly a wonder, like a bucket of ice water dumped on his head by the rulers of the universe. An honest to god wake up call. And yet, still all he wants to do is talk to Phil. He pulls out his phone and dials Phil’s number. It’s the only one he knows by memory. 

It rings three times before Phil answers. He garbles out rumbly nonsense instead of actual words.

“Hey,” Dan says.

Long pause. “Dan?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Um.” Another long pause. 

Phil sounds more awake this time. “What’s wrong?”

Dan decides to be honest, as embarrassing as that may be. “My parents are having a row.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell?” 

Dan sits up a little against his headboard and turns his head to look out the window. He can see the leafy silhouettes of the trees outside, backlit dimly by the lamp down the street. There’s a long pause in the noise of the argument, and for a moment Dan thinks maybe it’s over.

Then he hears the very distinct sound of his mother crying.

“Dan, you alright?”

Dan bites his lip and shakes his head. “I’m… I’m doing that thing you said. Feeling things deeply. And I wish I wasn’t.”

“I don’t blame you for feeling it,” Phil says, voice husky still. “And I’m glad you rang so you don’t have to feel it alone.”

Dan doesn’t say anything for a long time. He blinks one calm tear and lets it roll down his cheek without reaching up to wipe it away. He’s not worked up or dramatic, he’s just… sad. “I don’t wanna be like them,” he says quietly.

Phil doesn’t ask for clarification. “You won’t. You aren’t.”

“I don’t want _us_ to be like them.”

“Never,” Phil promises. “We’re gonna be happy.”

“Forever, right?”

“Forever.”

-

He only gets a couple hours of restless sleep before his alarm is going off, but excitement manages to eclipse his exhaustion and the lingering melancholy of listening to his parents’ relationship slowly deteriorate. For once he’s managed not to procrastinate packing, so all he has to do is shower and get dressed before dragging his suitcase down the stairs and to the front door. He doesn’t bother with breakfast or tea, deciding he can deal with that later. As far as he’s concerned, the sooner he gets out of Wokingham, the better.

He’s got one trainer on and is crouched down working on the second when his mother appears out of nowhere, making Dan squawk. “Jesus, mum.”

“What are you doing?”

He gets his shoe on and stands up to his full height. He looks at her for a moment, noting the twinge of sympathy at the dark circles under her sad eyes. “I’m going to Portugal with Phil.”

“Right, but I mean… Were you not going to wake me?”

“Uh…” 

He thinks she’s about to guilt trip him for not saying goodbye, which would be wildly out of character for a woman who has, admittedly, been giving him pretty much free reign to come and go as he pleases for years now, but instead she says, “Don’t you want a ride to the airport?”

“I’m meeting Phil in London.”

“To the train station, then?” She’s leant against the wall with her arms folded across her chest.

“That’s alright,” Dan mutters awkwardly. “I was just gonna take the bus, m’sure you’re tired…”

“Ah.” She inhales sharply through her nose, and Dan recognizes it as an admission of embarrassment. “You heard that, then.”

He could feign ignorance, but he reckons that would make things even more awkward, so instead he just shrugs. She drops her arms and stands up straight. “Come on, then. I’ll buy you breakfast on the way.”

-

The car smells like fried food and coffee. He’d inhaled the entirety of his breakfast within a few minutes of it being given to him, and now he’s staring out the window while his mum drives. He wishes he had more food even though he’s too nervous to actually be hungry, because at least then he’d have something to do with his mouth that isn’t this very conspicuous lack of words being exchanged with the woman sat next to him.

The tension between them is thick. He’s sure they’re both thinking about last night’s shouting match and chewing on words they don’t really know how to go about saying. He remembers the sound of her crying and a few minutes later, heavy footsteps clomping down the stairs. His dad must have slept on the sofa and left for work early, because he wasn’t there when Dan came down. 

Dan’s grateful for that. As complicated as his relationship is with his mum, he’s pretty much written off having one with his dad entirely at this point. He reckons fifteen years was his limit of hoping that Tim Howell would remember that he’s meant to actually love and care for the kid he helped make. As it is, he only ever seems to take an interest in Dan when he wants to point out something he’s doing wrong.

The drive to the train station is mercifully short. He’s about to grunt a quick thanks and hop out when she turns in her seat to face him with her whole body. His pulse quickens in an instant, anxiety tightening every muscle in his body. 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that last night, bear.”

Oh. He can’t even remember the last time she called him that. “S’alright,” he mutters, looking down at his hands. His nails are already bitten down to the quick, but he reckons he could find something to chew on if he tried hard enough. 

“It’s not,” she says. “It’s not alright.”

He’s got no response for that. He can’t just say _you guys probably should have broken up ages ago_ , so he just sits there continuing to feel so uncomfortable that he might actually be starting to melt. He glances out the window for somewhere to look that’s not her expectant face, and she seems to get the hint.

“I suppose you’ll need to get going.” 

Dan nods, hand already reaching for the door handle, but then she’s twisting to reach into the back seat and grab her purse. She fishes out her wallet and pulls out a wad of notes and hands them out for him to take. He actually frowns at her for a moment like it’s all some kind of elaborate prank, but she pushes them into his hand.

“I want you to have a nice trip.”

He closes his fingers around the money. “You really don’t have to—”

She shakes her head. “Look, Dan… I know you’ve been a bit… unhappy, the past few years, and I’m quite sure I haven’t always handled that very well.” She doesn’t know the half of it, but this kind of admission from her is fucking groundbreaking, so he keeps his snark to himself and lets her continue. “I don’t want you to see me as the enemy, yeah?”

He nods. 

To his horror (and delight?) she reaches up and pushes his fringe to the side, stroking her thumb down the side of his face. “You and Phil have lots of fun together, yeah? You always seem so happy when you bring him round. It’s nice to hear you laugh like that.”

He could tell her. Right now, he could do it and it’d be so fucking easy. A part of him wants to, a part of him _aches_ to let the truth just fall from his lips and stick to her and he’d never have to hide in his own home again. He’d never have to lie about why he’s always spending so much goddamn money on train tickets or why he sulks when it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. No more excuses, no more omissions of truth. 

He could also sprout wings and fly.

Instead he says, “Thanks, mum,” and gives her a smile before grabbing his suitcase, opening the door, and heading for the train that will take him to Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to mandy as always for the very extremely helpful idea nuggets


	6. Chapter 6

Dan’s been to many an airport in his eighteen years on earth, but he’s never been to one with Phil. Most everything Dan experiences is made better by Phil’s company, but it seems as though he’s finally found the exception to that rule.

Because being at the airport with Phil is a little bit of a nightmare.

He’s never really seen Phil like this before. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, his passport clutched in his hand like he’s waiting for someone to come up and yank it away from him. Dan’s heard him say on more than one occasion that he’s a nervous flyer, but he kind of assumed that meant he had to actually be flying.

He’s nervous before Dan even gets there, texting him while he’s still on the train that they’re going to run out of time. Dan has to assure him that being at the airport three hours early is more than enough time.

Phil doesn’t give him a hug when they meet. He smiles, but Dan can tell it’s clipped. It doesn’t touch his eyes. 

“You okay?” Dan asks.

Phil says, “Let’s get our bags checked.”

So they do. They check their bags and collect their boarding passes and Dan wants to suggest they go find somewhere to eat or grab a coffee but Phil is radiating anxiety when he says, “Let’s go through security,” so Dan doesn’t argue. 

Things don’t get better from there. The line is long and Phil is fidgeting the whole time. He puts his hands in and out of his pockets multiple times and his teeth seems to make a perfect home of the inside of his left cheek. Eventually Dan has to throw caution to the wind and lace his fingers in between Phil’s and squeeze.

That seems to help. Phil smiles a real smile and his shoulders ease slightly down away from his ears. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I know I act like a freak at airports. My brain just likes to cycle through every possible thing that could go wrong.”

“Nothing’s gonna go wrong,” Dan says, and swings their hands a little between them. It’s a mostly empty promise since Dan doesn’t actually have telepathic abilities, but Phil seems comforted nonetheless.

Until they get to the front of the line and the agent is a stern looking middle aged man with a frown and a supreme lack of patience. He barks at Phil for his boarding pass even though Phil already had it right there in his hands, then barks louder when Phil walks through the metal detector and sets it off because he’d been so flustered by the previous bark that he forgot he had 75p in his pocket. 

Dan can see that his hands are shaking as he drops the coins in the bin. He’s never seen a man over six feet tall look so small. 

Anger wells in his chest as they put their shoes back on. He wants to tear that agent’s head off, but even he has the self preservation to know that would be an extremely counter productive thing to do. He keeps his rage internal, because Phil looks pale and drawn like he’s about to be sick, and Dan doesn’t want to stress him out by getting upset. 

Dan grabs his hand again and just has to hope that today isn’t a day where he or Phil are going to get recognized. “Hey,” he says, squeezing Phil’s palm. It’s sweaty. “Hey. Hey Phil.”

“Yeah?” Phil tries to smile. It makes Dan’s heart twinge. 

“We’re going to Portugal.”

He smiles a little. “Yeah.”

Alright, so that’s not nearly enough to distract Phil from his worries. “I packed my birth certificate, did you?

Phil rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Maybe.”

“Did you pack lots of lube? And that fleshlight you pretend you don’t keep hidden in your closet?”

“Dan!” Phil squawks.

Phil definitely doesn’t have a fleshlight. They spent a whole night on Skype once talking about how gross Phil thinks they are. Dan was equally insistent that they were definitely going to try one out together someday, but he hasn’t as of yet been successful in convincing Phil of that fact. 

Phil’s mortified smile fades almost as quickly as it had appeared and he goes back to looking scared and queasy. “Let’s just find our gate,” he says, dropping Dan’s hand and crossing his arms over his chest protectively.

Dan checks his phone, dismayed by just how much time they’ll have to kill before they could even think of starting to board, but he doesn’t argue. There’s no way in hell it’ll take two and half hours to get to their gate, but Phil’s peace of mind is worth it. He lets Phil lead the way, hoping the feeling of control will ease his mind a little.

“Phil,” he says. “The hard stuff is over. Everything’s gonna be good.”

Phil nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

And then, about five minutes into a walk that probably won’t take more than ten, Dan sees something that honestly feels like divine intervention. Not that he actually believes in shit like that, but it’s definitely perfect. He bumps his shoulder into Phil’s and points. “We’re making a pit stop.” 

Phil opens his mouth, but Dan grabs his arm and tugs him toward their destination before he can protest. It’s nothing special really, just a little shop that sells sweets and snacks, but Dan can’t think of a better way to distract Phil from his own head than to redirect focus to his stomach. 

And it fucking works. Dan starts grabbing random shit without even looking and shoving it into Phil’s arms until he physically can’t carry anymore. Then he loads up his own arms. 

He pays for it all and says something about what a good sugar daddy he is, and Phil is gracious enough not to mention that he paid for their plane tickets and their hotel and will probably pay for most of their meals, too. They finish the walk to their gate and find a bench near the window to take stalk of their haul. They’ve got pickled onion Monster Munch, prawn cocktail crisps, Hobnobs, cherry Bakewells, Tangfastics, Wotsits - and Ribena to wash it all down. 

“I feel like Ron on the train to Hogwarts,” Phil says, tearing open a packet of crisps. 

Dan grins. “Does that mean I’m Harry?”

“You’re definitely Harry.” He shoves a large amount of food into his gob and frowns thoughtfully as he chews. “Or maybe you’re Hermione.”

“Nah, mate. If anyone’s Hermione it’s you.” Dan pokes Phil gently in the cheek. “You’re the bossy one.”

“Oi, I am not. You’re just as bossy as me. Anyway, I’m Voldemort remember?” He crinkles his nose. “Perfect for rotisserie style kebabs.”

Dan snorts and reaches for the Monster Munch. He pops one into his mouth and it’s like a time machine. “I dunno why I like these so much. They taste exactly like sixth form.”

Phil frowns, then snatches them out of Dan’s hand. “Have the Wotsits instead. No bad memories on holiday.”

Dan smiles. He’s pretty sure if it were up to Phil, he’d never have a bad memory again as long as he lived. 

And the feeling is mutual. Dan feels a swelling of pride when he looks at Phil and takes stock of the return of a little colour to his cheeks. “Are you feeling better?”

Phil is in the middle of constructing a prawn cocktail and pickled onion sandwich. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I don't know why airports make me freak out.”

Dan bumps his knee into Phil’s. He’s not sure what to say, because it honestly _is_ a little strange, and he can’t pretend he really understands it, but it’s not like he doesn’t have a whole laundry list of his own inexplicable oddities. “You don’t have to apologize, Phil. You’re allowed to get upset sometimes. I do it all the bloody time.”

“Yeah but at least you have reasons. My reason is just, like: what if? What if I accidentally packed a knife in my suitcase and they find it and send me to jail? What if I accidentally say something weird and someone reports me and they accuse me of terrorism and ship me off to like, Guantanamo Bay or something? What if we can’t find our gate and we miss our flight and then all the money we spent on the tickets and the hotel is wasted and my dad shouts at me and you get really cross that I ruined our holiday and then you dump me for someone who isn’t such a freak? What if they lose my luggage and I’m stuck in Portugal with no clean pants?”

Dan blinks. “Those are reasons. Just because they’re daft doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Shut up,” Phil says in a quiet breathy murmur, but he’s definitely smiling a little.

“I know what you’re really worried about is someone finding the fleshlight in your suitcase.”

Phil punches him in the shoulder. “I hate you.”

“Yeah. Hate you too, babe.” He puts his hand on Phil’s thigh and squeezes. Apparently something about the liminality of airports - spaces that only exist as a middle ground between one place and another - makes Dan feel brave enough to just reach out and touch whenever he wants. 

Or maybe he’s just happy. Maybe he’s just excited. “We take care of each other,” he says gently. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Phil’s face goes soft, his big eyes a little extra shiny. “I chose my future husband well.”

Dan plucks a crisp out of the packet in Phil’s hand and eats it with the hope that food will stem the strange twisty feeling he gets in his stomach now every time Phil says stuff like that.

It doesn’t work. He swallows and then immediately blurts, “You’re just joking right?”

“I wish I was. I know the likelihood of any of that stuff happening is like, practically nonexistent but—”

“No, Phil, you fucking spork, that’s not— I mean about the…” He looks down at the plastic bag full of junk food so he won’t have to look at Phil’s reaction. “The whole getting married thing.”

There’s a moment of excruciating silence, and then, “Oh. Right. Um.” Another pause, though it’s just a quick one this time. “Well… yeah?”

Dan makes himself look up at Phil’s face again. 

“Right?” Phil asks.

Dan gives a single nod, forcing a smile. “‘Course.” 

Of course it’s a bloody joke. He’s eighteen years old. He can’t even say the word _gay_ out loud. They both still live with their parents. Phil doesn’t know how to do his own laundry. Dan doesn’t even _want_ to get married; why would he? Marriage means endless compromise and sacrifice and resentment and restriction and shouting in the middle of the night and blame passed back and forth like a fucking hot potato. Dan likes to pretend he’s mature. But he reckons he’ll never be _that_ mature, and he knows for a _fact_ that Phil never will be. And that’s good. That’s a good thing. The day Phil stops drawing sharpie whiskers on his face and screeching elephant mating calls into Dan’s ear at the drop of a hat is the day happiness truly lies down and dies.

-

They manage to board the plane without Phil being arrested and shipped off to Cuba. 

They hold hands under the cardigan Dan took off when they sat down and split Dan’s headphones to listen to 808s & Heartbreak from start to finish. Phil couldn’t give less than half a rusty fuck about Kanye West and Dan knows it, but he doesn’t complain when that’s what Dan puts on for them. He looks at Dan and rolls his eyes and smirks with fondness, then turns his head to the window to watch the clouds below them. 

Dan has endless reasons to agree that it had been a joke all along and only one to argue, but in moments like these, that one reason feels more real than all the cold rationality in the universe. 

-

Lisbon is sunny. It’s warm. It’s everything they’d been looking for. Dan hardly knows ten broken words of Portuguese, but the sound of it all around him as they wait at the conveyor belt for their luggage is like music. Music whose lyrics promise him a blissful reprieve from _just friends_ and all the other bullshit they paint themselves with to make it through life as… as a gay couple. He may not be able to _say_ it, but he can think it. No one can take away the bravery he’s got inside his own brain. 

The airline didn’t lose Phil’s luggage. He’s got plenty of clean pants. 

-

They get a cab to the hotel to dump their stuff with the intention of going right back out and exploring their home for the next week, but… Dan has decided he’s going to take this holiday as an excuse to follow every hedonistic urge that occurs to him, and what better place for that than a nice room with a Do Not Disturb sign on the door and a very sexy, very willing partner in all things pleasurable sitting right there? 

Dan climbs right into Phil’s lap, knees digging into the mattress on either side of Phil’s hips. They attach at the mouth and Phil slides his hands up the back of Dan’s shirt. They’re here, they’re finally here. The volcano could only keep them away for so long.

Dan thinks about that as Phil kisses him, as their tongues brush and heat builds under the surface of his skin. He thinks about the fact that they were meant to be here a month ago, but a force beyond their control stepped in to make sure that, no, that wasn’t the right time.

The right time is now.

He stops the train of thought there, because he knows where it wants to go and he doesn’t want to let it. It’s a coincidence. So a law changed. The timing _feels_ poignant, but it isn’t. Crazy things happen sometimes, crazier things than this. Statistical improbabilities happen. It doesn’t mean anything except that the universe is vast and life is strange.

Dan’s got a firm grip on the back of Phil’s head, fingers threaded through long soft hair as Phil bites at Dan’s lips. They’re working their way up to something really good, Dan can tell. Not that it isn’t always good, but it always feels a little better when there’s no danger of their privacy being threatened. 

Dan’s phone rings, but he ignores it. Phil tugs up on Dan’s shirt and Dan breaks the kiss just long enough to yank the thing off impatiently. Phil kisses his chest, then starts biting at Dan’s skin. The teeth only come out like this when Phil is proper horny, and Dan’s response to it is downright Pavlovian by now. He grinds down into Phil’s lap, finding absolutely no relief given how tight his jeans are but not actually caring that much because they’ve got this room to themselves for the foreseeable future which means they can take as much time as they want. 

Dan’s phone rings again. He pulls it out of his pocket, but only so he can chuck it up the bed nearer the pillows and climb off Phil’s lap to start working his jeans off. Phil watches, his face hungry and unashamed in its study of Dan’s body as it gets progressively more naked. 

Dan’s phone rings. He sinks to his knees in front of Phil and Phil touches his face, traces the shape of Dan’s bottom lip with his thumb. Dan bites it gently and Phil looks down at Dan through his fringe and that’s about as much patience as Dan’s got left. 

Dan’s phone rings. His mouth is full of Phil and that’s all he really cares about, the taste that doesn’t exist anywhere else and the weight on his tongue and the way Phil touches his jaw as it works. He hears the phone but it’s just background noise.

Until Phil leans back and twists to the side to pick it up and answer it. 

They’re not drunk, but they might as well be; drunk on skin and sex and freedom and Phil says cheekily, “Sorry, Dan can’t come to the phone right now, he’s—”

His voice cuts off and his face goes serious and Dan pulls back and wipes the spit off his lips and his stomach drops as Phil says, “Yeah, sorry, he’s right here,” and holds the phone out to Dan. Dan frowns and Phil mouths _dad_ and Dan has a moment of wanting to open the window and escape. Phil pushes the phone into his hand and then grabs a pillow to cover his crotch. 

Dan stands up, then sits on the edge of the mattress. His hands are shaking. His dad never calls him.

“Hello?”

“Who was that?” his dad demands, his voice unkind.

“Phil,” Dan says quietly, though he doubts that means absolutely anything to this man who really knows less than nothing about Dan and his life. “My mate. I was just—”

“What are you doing? Where are you?”

Dan frowns. “What?”

“Christ’s sake, Daniel, it’s a simple enough question. If you’re not home, I need you back here now.”

Dan looks over at Phil, whose eyes have gone cartoonishly wide. “Dad.” He can’t keep the attitude out of his voice. “I’m not even in the _country_.”

“What are you on about?”

“I’m in Portugal.”

Silence. “What?”

“I’m on holiday in Portugal. It’s been planned for over a month.” He can just tell from the way his dad is breathing that he’s about to get shouted at.

“Why didn’t I know about this? Does your mother know you’re in bloody Portugal? Why am I always the last to know this shit?”

Dan’s heart punches his chest. He hates that it still feels like this, that his body’s instinctual reaction to his dad’s anger is still fear. 

He swallows that down, though, balls up his fist and replaces it with anger. “Mum’s the one who drove me to the train station. And I don’t need your permission. It’s not like you ever ask about me, so why would I tell you?” He’s looking right at Phil, who looks like he also wouldn’t mind opening the window and just flying away.

“I have a right to know,” his dad says. “I still pay to put a roof over your head.”

“Well now you know. What do you want anyway?” 

“It hardly matters now, does it?” his dad spits. “Yet again, you’ve fucked off from taking any responsibility.”

“Responsibility for what?” Dan demands. 

“I needed someone to watch Adrian tonight. Your mother’s been called out of town for work and I can’t get a hold of Veronica.”

Dan’s voice goes steely. “Why don’t you look after him yourself for once?”

“I’m going to start charging you rent if you’re going to—”

“I’m moving out in a few months, dad. Then you’ll never have to deal with me again, okay? So can you just leave me alone now? I’m not a babysitter.”

“You’re not going to last one month at university with an attitude like yours.”

“Alright, dad. Whatever.”

“You can’t commit to anything. You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”

Dan hangs up and throws the phone at the bed hard enough that it bounces right off the mattress and thumps against the carpeted floor. There probably isn’t any damage, but Dan isn’t actually bothered about that at that moment. His face feels hot and his heart is racing and he’s definitely going to cry angry tears and he really doesn’t want to do it in front of Phil, not when they’re both in various states of undress and three minutes ago Phil’s cock was in his mouth and now they’re kicking off their holiday with the most amount of bullshit humanly possible and it’s all Dan’s fault. It’s always Dan’s fault. He just drags drama and misery around with him wherever he goes and eventually Phil is going to realize that he could - and probably should - do so much better. 

“What happened?” Phil asks.

Dan shakes his head. “My dad’s a cunt.”

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn't have— I don’t even know why I did that. I thought it’d be a laugh.”

Dan shrugs. “He probably would’ve just kept ringing.”

“I don’t understand why he would ring just to make you feel bad,” Phil says quietly. 

“My parents aren’t like yours, Phil. They don’t care about me.”

Phil looks pained, but he doesn’t argue, and Dan is grateful for that. Right now he wants to wallow. He doesn’t want to be forced to acknowledge that things aren’t black and white like that. 

What Phil does do is reach out and put his hand on Dan’s arm. “We should turn off our phones.”

Dan sniffs aggressively. “Pretend nothing else exists?”

Phil nods. “Just us.”

“Can we just— I feel like I need to do something.”

“Like go out?”

Dan shakes his head. He’s managing to keep a lid on any kind of hysterics, but only just. “Can we just…” His voice wobbles. “Can we take a shower or something?”

-

Dan cries in the shower. He buries his face in the wet skin of Phil’s neck and Phil holds him. 

They don’t talk and he doesn’t fall apart. They wash each other’s hair and Phil rubs Dan’s back and shoulders long after the soap has washed away. Their lips meet and their hands wander and eventually they do a very good job of making each other feel good. 

By the time they’ve tucked themselves under the covers and taken a much needed but accidental nap, the sun has set and their room is washed in darkness. The sadness in Dan’s chest is just a dull ache. 

Phil orders food up to their room, and neither of them put clothes on to eat it.

They’ve also ordered a bottle of wine, which they end up drinking in bed and straight from the bottle. Again.

“Is this gonna be our thing?” Phil asks.

Dan nods and takes the bottle from him. “There are worse things than naked wine cuddles, don’t you reckon?” He puts his mouth right where Phil’s just was, and considering all the ways their bodies have come together over these last months it’s ridiculous that this should feel quite so intimate, but it does. They share everything, right down to the microscopic organisms living in their saliva.

Phil looks at Dan and smiles with his beautiful drunken pink-stained mouth. “I’d say there are few things better.” 

Dan leans down and bites Phil’s freckled shoulder. He rather suddenly feels as tipsy as Phil looks. “You’re better,” he says. “You’re the best.”

“Are you feeling better?” Phil asks gently. He puts the mostly empty bottle on the nightstand and pulls Dan closer.

Dan lets himself be pulled, fitting his face into the curve of Phil’s neck. He fits so perfectly there, like it’s where the universe always meant for him to be. He hums in the affirmative. 

“Good,” Phil murmurs. “I like when you’re happy. I always want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Phil squeezes him. “You too.”

“I make me happy?”

Phil huffs, a laugh that only makes the sound of breath but fills Dan with warmth from head to toe. “You’re drunk.”

“Mm,” Dan agrees.

“You make me happy,” Phil says. He reaches up and tugs on one of Dan’s errant curls. “Also you’re pretty.”

“Phil.”

“Yeah?”

“My dad is an asshole.”

“I know.” He strokes Dan’s hair. “I’m really sorry.”

“He’s always shouting at me and most of the time I don’t even know why. And he shouts at my mum a lot, too.”

Phil doesn’t say anything, just keeps running his fingers through Dan’s curls, holding space for Dan to say what he hoped he wasn’t going to say, but now knows he has to. 

“I think he wishes he never had me. I’m just a mistake.”

Phil’s grip around Dan’s shoulders tightens rather forcefully. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though.”

“Maybe you weren’t planned, but that’s not the same as being a mistake.”

“That’s how it feels when he looks at me,” Dan says quietly. “And when he talks to me. Like he wishes he could go back in time and wear a condom. Or pull out and just shoot me onto my mum’s stomach instead.”

“Dan.”

He flinches at the reproach in Phil’s voice. “Sorry.”

“You’re not a mistake,” Phil says fiercely. “Don’t ever say that again.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“I’m gonna say something.”

“Okay.”

Phil is quiet for so long before he speaks that Dan thinks he’s changed his mind, but then he says, “I wasn’t joking.”

Dan sighs, trying to pull away. “I know, I said I wouldn’t say it again.”

Phil doesn’t let him go. He crushes Dan against him even tighter. “I meant, earlier, when you asked me at the airport if I was joking.” Pause. “I wasn’t.”

Dan feels like he’s been doused in cold water. “What?”

“None of it is a mistake,” Phil says. “How can you say that? You make me feel so alive every day, how can that be a mistake? You make so many people happy every time you post a video. You make me happy just by existing. You think that’s a mistake?”

“I…”

“Do you think that volcano was a coincidence? Because I don’t.”

Dan forces Phil to let him pull back enough that he can see Phil’s face. “What?”

“We were supposed to be here a month ago,” Phil says. “But we’re here now. The literal _day_ it becomes legal.”

Dan shakes his head. “Phil…”

“No. No. I’m serious, Dan. It’s… It’s not a mistake. It can’t be. The cards told me. They predicted you.”

Now Dan well and truly has no idea what the fuck is going on. “Cards? What cards?”

Phil rolls his eyes like Dan is being intentionally obtuse. “The tarot cards. Didn’t you watch that video? You said you’ve watched all my videos.”

“You know I have.”

“You’re the Knight of Wands, Dan. You’re the energetic warrior.”

Dan snorts. 

“Don’t laugh.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

Phil’s serious face answers before his words have the chance. “You know I do.”

“So you… You want to marry me?” He can barely even say it now. “Because of a deck of cards and a volcano.”

“I also dreamt about it.”

Dan’s mouth gapes for a moment before he snaps it shut. 

“Also because I love you, and I never thought I would feel like this about anyone. I was kind of starting to think it didn’t actually exist and everyone who talked about love was just exaggerating.”

“Phil. I love you too, but you sound fucking mental right now.”

“So you were joking?” Phil asks. “It was always just a joke for you?”

Dan bites his tongue, literally sinks his teeth down into his flesh until he’s worried he’ll draw blood. “I don’t… I don’t know. Maybe not. I don’t know.” His eyes dart back and forth between Phil’s. In the yellow lamplight the look more grey than blue. “Maybe we're just drunk.”

“Being drunk just means I have the balls to say what I usually can’t.”

“We can’t get married,” Dan blurts.

“Why? Because you don’t want to?”

Dan asks, “Do you actually want to?” 

Phil says, “I’m asking you. Just forget about the reasons it makes me sound mental for a second and think about it.”

Dan frowns.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” Dan whispers. 

“I do too.”

“Why?” Dan asks. “I don’t get it. I don’t care about being married. I’ve never even thought about it before.”

“I hadn’t either,” Phil says. “But the day before I found that article online I had a dream about it. We were lying in bed with rings on our fingers and you looked so happy. I’ve never seen you look so happy and it didn’t even feel like a dream. It felt like… like a future memory.”

“Dreams don’t mean anything, Phil.”

“That’s bullshit.” His eyes are unblinking until he finally looks away. “Sorry. It’s fine. You don’t want to. You were joking.”

“I kind of wasn’t,” Dan admits. “I wasn’t and I don’t know why I wasn’t.”

Phil looks at him again. “Maybe it doesn’t matter.” He pulls Dan in close. “Sometimes I feel things I can’t explain. Like… like when I was twelve on a beach and I saw a bloke with a six pack and I just _knew_ I liked it. I didn’t know _why_ I liked it, I just knew that I did. Just like when I’d read your comments on my videos and I knew you were gonna be a part of my life. Some things are just meant to be, Dan.”

Dan tilts his face up and presses his mouth against Phil’s jaw. “I really don’t know if I believe that.”

“So maybe you have your own reasons,” Phil whispers. “We can have different reasons for wanting the same things.”

Dan nods. It may be the first thing Phil’s said in the past few minutes that makes sense to him. “My dad said I can’t commit to anything,” he says. “And that’s not fucking true.”

“It’s not.”

“And people at school made me hate myself,” Dan continues. “They made me dread every day so much that I didn’t want to be alive anymore because I felt so hopelessly broken and wrong, but I’m not.”

Phil presses his mouth to Dan’s forehead. “You’re not.”

“You make me feel like I’m good,” Dan says. “And I want that forever.” He bites Phil’s earlobe to stop himself doing something idiotic like sobbing. “Basically I wanna trap you into not being able to leave when you figure out that I’m actually the worst.”

Phil laughs. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of my point.”

“I already told you I want you forever,” Phil whispers, peppering Dan’s forehead with little kisses.

“Stop or I’ll cry,” Dan warns. 

“What else is new?”

“Oi, you little—” Dan goes for a vindictive tickle and Phil shrieks, trying in vain to dive to safety.

Once Dan has gotten his revenge and Phil has begged for mercy, they settle back against the pillows to catch their breath.

Dan asks, “Are we going to change our minds in the morning?”

“No,” Phil says, reaching for the bottle of wine. “We’re going to go shopping for extremely cheap rings.”

-

Phil falls asleep first. 

Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that Phil falls asleep and leave it at that. Dan knows he’s not going to be getting any sleep of his own tonight.

He’s laid curled up on his side facing Phil, watching his eyelids dance as he dreams. He wonders what pictures are playing in his mind, if they really are as prophetic as Phil claims they are.

Dan hopes dreams aren’t messages sent from some all-knowing place. Where Phil seems to take comfort in thoughts like that, Dan is repelled by them. He needs to believe that the choices he makes mean something, that he has at least a little bit of control over what happens to him.

He’s choosing Phil, and not because of a deck of cards or a dream and or a fucking volcano. He’s making a decision.

Maybe a mistake. He can’t divorce that thought from the giddiness that floods him at the idea of them being bound by more than hormones and desperation. It could be a mistake, but he’s willing to take that risk because he _wants_ to. If anything the magnitude of it makes him want it more. So many of the choices he’s had to make in his life have been made for the purposes of hiding, of layering his true self in the thickest, most impenetrable kind of amour. 

Not this. This has the potential to fuck up eighteen years worth of repression, and he wants it so bad it makes his chest burn. 

Phil stirs then, rolling onto his back. His eyes stay closed and he mumbles, “No, it’s not a monkey. _No_ , Mar. It’s a baboon.”

Dan slaps a hand over his own mouth to contain the laughter that bubbles up. This guy, he thinks. _This fucking guy_ is the guy Dan’s going to marry tomorrow. The guy who believes in ghosts and fate and soulmates and knows the difference between monkeys and baboons, thank you very much. The guy who makes Dan feel like life can be more than a test of endurance. 

He snuggles up against Phil’s side, smashing his nose into Phil’s cheek and not caring if it wakes him up. Phil makes a sleepy noise of confusion, but still turns over to face the annoying lump of human pressing hard cartilage into his face when he’s trying to sleep, because that’s what Phil does. He sees all the hard parts of Dan and leans into them anyway, flopping an arm around him and holding him close even in unconsciousness. 

Dan smiles and closes his eyes. Maybe just this once, he can admit that the cards of fate have dealt him a winning hand.


	7. Chapter 7

He wakes up tired down to his bones, but Phil is there snoring lightly with his limbs sprawled out all over the place and Dan has the thought that is what the rest of his life is going to look like. He and Phil in a bed they share, no lines between them that won’t be gleefully crossed. Phil has managed to wrap himself up in the blanket like a burrito, leaving none for Dan, but Dan doesn’t care. They hadn’t closed the blinds the night before, so sun streams into the room hot and yellow as molten gold, making Dan’s skin dewy with the threat of sweat if he doesn’t get up and find some way to turn on the aircon.

First he fishes his phone out from where it’s been tangled into the sheets. He opens it up and isn't surprised to see a litany of missed calls and voicemails from his father. He looks at them with a knot in his stomach for about thirty seconds before doing something he pretty much never does and powering the thing off completely. He doesn’t need it. The only person he cares to hear from is laid right next to him.

He gets up, finds a pair of Phil’s boxers in his open suitcase and pulls them on before walking over to the window. English sun doesn’t feel like this, like it’s radiating right through his skin and into his flesh. It feels good, like burning but in a way he doesn’t ever want to end. He opens the window and the air that drifts in is warm as well, no antidote to the sun’s scorch but comforting all the same. 

Lisbon from their room’s view looks like a postcard, so pretty it doesn’t quite feel real, but maybe that’s because he’s running on what can’t be more than a couple hours of sleep and clinging to the edges of more than one kind of hangover. The clenched feeling in his guts hasn’t fully dissipated, and a sinking sensation tells him it probably won’t anytime soon. 

“Dan?” Phil croaks, and Dan turns around to see a lifted head with wild black hair and eyes squinting against the morning’s rays. 

“No,” Dan says, walking over to the bed and crouching down to meet Phil eye to eye. “S’your other boyfriend.”

Phil crinkles his nose and Dan kisses him and Phil pulls him back into bed with surprising strength. “It must be. My Dan-shaped boyfriend would never let his hair get this curly and adorable.”

Dan groans, bringing his hands up to cover his face. “I forgot.”

“Can you have hobbit hair when I marry you?”

Words escape him momentarily. It’s not like he’d forgotten the plans they’d made last night, it's just that they feel so much more real when spoken aloud with such casual frankness. 

They still fill him with exhilaration, though, a rush of fear and excitement in equal measure. “Hell no.”

Phil pouts.

“Can you wear your glasses when I marry you?” Dan counters.

“Alright, touché.” Phil rolls over so he’s lying right on top of Dan’s body. “I should’ve broken your straighteners last time I was round yours.”

“I’d have found a way to get more.” He reaches down to touch Phil wherever his hand happens to land and is reminded that Phil isn’t wearing anything at all. His fingers brush the soft skin of Phil’s ass and suddenly he’s incredibly awake. “You’re naked.”

“Yeah.”

He lays a palm flat against the rounded flesh of Phil’s cheek. Phil makes a noise, something that indicates interest, and simultaneously a kind of protest.

Dan frowns. “I’m not allowed to touch you, now?”

Phil rolls off and snatches the blanket to cover himself up. “You shouldn’t even be seeing me.”

“Uh. Reckon that ship has sailed?”

“I mean today. It’s bad luck.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Dan stares at him blankly for a good while before he gets it. Then he says, “Fuck that. We make our own rules.” He reaches out and tugs on the blanket, hoping Phil will let it fall away.

He doesn’t, but he smiles. “I feel like that’s our motto or something.”

“It is,” Dan says. “If we have one, that’s definitely it.”

“I like it.”

Dan tugs again. “I like you.”

This time Phil lets the blanket go, but he gets up from the bed with a hand covering his crotch and walks over to where Dan had been stood a moment ago. “You can’t look at the good bits. That’s where I draw the line.”

The curves of his shoulders cut through the streaming sunlight and Dan thinks it looks like a full body halo. He scootches to the edge of the bed, letting his legs dangle over the side. “Mate, I can totally still see your ass.”

Phil’s shoulders shake a little in silent laughter. “Shut up.” 

He really does look strangely angelic. Dan has no choice but to get up and go to him, fitting his front against Phil’s back, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist, pressing a kiss to the crook of Phil’s neck. “Your ass is a good bit,” he murmurs.

Phil hums, pressing it back against the space between Dan’s hips. It’s clearly meant to be playful, but it’s still technically a naked Phil grinding his ass against Dan’s cock with only a very thin layer of material between them, so Dan’s thoughts instantly go somewhere hot and dirty. 

“Hey,” he says, sliding a hand down to touch Phil there. Dan wonders if he’ll ever stop being surprised how attracted he is to every part of Phil’s body. 

“Hey,” Phil says back.

Dan presses his mouth to the meaty bit between Phil’s neck and shoulder. He meant for it to be a kiss, but then his teeth are scraping against Phil’s skin and Phil makes a little noise that does nothing to quiet Dan’s burgeoning arousal. He’s been unceremoniously gripped by a very _specific_ hot dirty thought, but he’s not even sure it’s one he’s allowed to have. 

Then Phil laughs again, a breathy little chuckle. “You and your holiday kink.”

Dan shakes his head. “It’s just you, idiot.” He takes his hand off Phil’s ass and wraps his arm around Phil’s middle again, not trusting himself not to let his fingers wander. 

“You ready to do this today?” Phil asks quietly.

Dan nods. “Hell yeah.”

-

Phil carries the backpack that holds the documents the internet told them they’d need. Dan starts sweating almost as soon as they’ve stepped foot outside, and he thinks absentmindedly that straightening his hair was probably a waste of time. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and shorts and the same trainers he always wears, and the only thing that would give away the big huge life changing thing they’re about to do is the consistent flutter-quick beating of his heart. 

First they get breakfast. Phil tries his best to order in Portuguese and Dan laughs at him heartily. They drink as much coffee as their stomachs will physically hold. 

They wander the city after that, walking up and down hilly streets hand in hand. Their palms stick together with sweat but Dan keeps an iron grip on Phil and Phil doesn’t complain. He keeps looking at Dan with a smile on his face and Dan can’t help smiling back, even though he kind of feels like he could be sick at any moment. He’s trying very hard not to let his thoughts wander more than a few minutes into the future. 

They find a shop that sells jewelry and pick out two of the very cheapest rings they can find. They’re not gold per se, but they’re _plated_ in gold and only cost twenty pounds each, so it feels like a win. 

Dan can’t look the clerk in the eye. He feels as exposed as if he were stark naked, so he hangs back and lets Phil do the talking. And the paying.

The last thing to do is take the bus to city hall. By now the heat is starting to take its toll. Dan’s shirt is stuck to his back and his hair is almost as curly as it would have been if he’d never bothered to take his GHDs to it. 

Phil hasn’t smiled at him in a while. He’s chewing his lip and staring out the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest. Dan fears if he keeps looking at him he’ll have a full blown freak out, so he closes his eyes and tips his head against the seat back, trusting that Phil will let him know when it’s their stop. He’s not actually sure _how_ Phil would know that. He’s been here before, but certainly not enough times to have the city’s layout committed to memory. 

Nevertheless, he puts his hand on Dan’s thigh about fifteen minutes later and nods towards the exit.

And then they’re _there_ , stood on a mosaic-tiled floor amongst a much larger crowd of people than either of them had thought to prepare themselves for. A little ways in front of them looms an enormous and historical looking building and suddenly Dan can no longer contain the _oh my god holy fuck what are we doing_ panic. He heads for the steps that lead up to the twisted stone monument in the center of the courtyard and lets his legs give out from under him. His ass hits the concrete hard, but he barely notices. 

Every sound is too loud. There are people _everywhere_ , their voices compounding in Dan’s head to the point it genuinely feels like it might explode. He drops it down into his hands and threads his fingers into damp hair, gripping tight at the root just to ground himself in a pain that’s more tangible and immediate than this overwhelming anxiety. 

Then there’s a hand on the back of his neck, fingers that are impossibly cool and gentle and Phil’s voice right next to his ear. “We don’t have to.”

Dan looks up at him, not sure what his answer is going to be until he’s faced with those eyes, that compassionate little smile. “Do you want to?”

Phil’s answer is unequivocal. “Yeah.”

“It’s crazy though, right? Like proper mental?”

Phil shrugs. “I guess.” He turns his gaze from Dan out to the veritable sea of strangers that surrounds them. “Maybe that’s part of the appeal?”

Dan keeps looking squarely at Phil, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I don’t really do things that are crazy,” Phil says eventually. “You make me wanna do the proper mental shit.” He turns back to Dan and smiles. 

“Proper mental shit,” Dan echoes quietly, reaching up without thinking and touching Phil’s mouth. It’s a weird reaction, but he’s feeling very weird. 

“Just look,” Phil says softly, nodding out towards the crowd. Dan tears his eyes off Phil and looks, and it’s like he’s seeing with brand new eyes. 

There are people everywhere, yes, but where they were nondescript and vaguely threatening a few minutes earlier, now they are distinctly beautiful. They are happy and smiling and laughing, men holding hands with men, women kissing women, some dressed in suits and white dresses, some dressed as casually as Dan and Phil, some posing for photos and waving flags of all colours. 

“Oh,” Dan says over the sudden painful lump in his throat. A feeling washes over him that he’s only ever felt alone in bed with Phil. Right here in this sweltering courtyard in front of this white stone castle of a city hall, he’s with his people. He’s safe.

“A good mental, I’d reckon,” Phil says, reaching to where Dan’s hands are hanging between his knees and grabbing hold of one.

Dan nods, and lets the tears fall. 

-

He doesn’t really stop after that. He cries as they make their way into the building. He cries while they follow the long line of other couples down halls and up stairs until they come to where they’re meant to wait. He cries as they wait, and they wait a long time. 

There are so many people. He can’t even properly fathom it, and as far as he can tell, most of them are just like him and Phil. People who’ve likely been made to feel that they’re wrong for loving each other. But, like him and Phil, they’re here now. They’re here in a place that tells them it’s okay. They’re not wrong at all.

He’s still sweating. It stings his eyes, or maybe that’s just the tears. Phil strikes up a conversation with the couple in front of them, two women from Ireland, Nic and Sinead. Nic is tall and loud with brown skin and black hair that’s buzzed short around the ears and a little longer on top. Her arm stays draped around Sinead’s shoulders as she and Phil talk like they’ve known each other for ages. 

Dan’s pretty sure he’s never seen Phil quite so light. Usually huge crowds of strangers would have him hunched and apprehensive, but he must be feeling the same as Dan. They’re just expressing it differently. Dan feels like if he opened his mouth to speak he’d start properly sobbing, so he keeps it shut and listens to Nic’s accent as she tells Phil how much it means to her to be here. 

Sinead presses her face into Nic’s neck. She’s got long blonde hair and pale skin and and a face full of makeup and a pretty green dress and Dan thinks to himself ashamedly that if he didn’t know better, he wouldn’t have believed that she was a lesbian. That brings on a fresh wave of tears, and he mirrors Sinead’s posture to seek comfort in the crook of Phil’s neck.

He cries as he says goodbye and good luck to his new friends. 

He cries when they come back out and Nic clutches Sinead tight and shouts, “This is my fuckin’ wife!”

He cries as he and Phil stand in front of a bored looking government official who drones the same words he’s probably spoken a hundred times today already in Portuguese. Dan doesn’t understand a word, and he and Phil have to be nudged every time they’re supposed to verbally respond to a question they hadn’t actually heard. 

He laughs as Phil slides a cheap ring that’s a little bit too big onto his finger, and then cries again as they sign their names on a piece of paper that tells them they belong to each other now. No one tells them to kiss, so they don’t.

Until they make their way back out into the blistering late afternoon sun hand in hand and Nic and Sinead are there on the steps waiting for them. Nic says, “We need to witness each other’s first kisses as wives and husbands,” and then plants one on Sinead that makes Dan’s insides feel warm and fluttery. 

When it’s their turn, Dan takes hold of the back of Phil’s head and kisses him like no one’s watching, long and slow. Phil melts into him and Dan forgets where they are until cheers erupt around them. They pull apart embarrassed but euphoric. They’re safe and loved here. These people see them for who they are, and they’re cheering.

“We’re fucking married,” Dan says, pulling Phil close again and crying into his neck. He reckons he’ll have no more tears left after today. 

Phil squeezes around Dan’s shoulders. “And you had hobbit hair after all.”

“Ugh. I feel like I went swimming in my own juices.”

Phil crinkles his nose, but belies his mock disgust by kissing Dan’s salty forehead. They stand there for a while just holding each other, until Nic taps Phil on the shoulder and says, “What are we doing to celebrate?”

-

They take a train and then a bus, and then they’re on the beach. By then the sun is starting to make its descent toward the horizon, but the sand is still littered with people. They’re not at city hall anymore, no one has a pride flag wrapped around their shoulders, but the feeling of safety has extended its tendrils outward nonetheless. Dan feels blissfully free. He feels like a version of himself that doesn’t worry about what anyone might be thinking when they look at him. 

His ring hugs his finger conspicuously, but in the nicest sort of way. He can’t stop touching it with his other hand, trapping it between his thumb and forefinger and spinning it around and around. He knows he won’t have the bravery it would take to leave it on when they get back to England, at least not on the finger that reveals the truth of its significance. But for now that’s where it sits, wrapped around the ring finger of his left hand, glinting yellow in the day’s steadily fading light. 

Phil bumps a shoulder against Dan’s. Dan bumps back. They take their shoes and socks off and wiggle their toes in the sand, watching as Sinead drags a playfully unwilling and still fully clothed Nic towards the water. She turns her head back to address Dan and Phil, and the smile on her face is radiant. “Come on, lads,” she shouts. “Help me dunk her!”

Dan grabs Phil’s hand. 

“I thought you were afraid of the sea,” Phil says, letting himself be pulled.

“I am.” There are lots of things Dan is afraid of, but at the moment he can’t really remember what any of them are. Nothing bad exists today, not when the sun is lighting the sky with pinks and oranges that reflect off the water and make Phil’s smiling face glow. Dan doesn’t believe in fate, but maybe it feels like a sign. Maybe it means something that the day started with Phil shining like an angel and that’s how it’s going to end. 

They run into the ocean in their clothes. Sinead is true to her word about dunking her new wife into the water, but she doesn’t need help from a couple of blokes. She manages it all on her own, and Nic screeches as she resurfaces with her white shirt stuck to her chest and suddenly completely see-through. Dan looks away, partly to preserve some semblance of modesty she probably doesn’t give an arse about, and partly because he’s got his own spouse to ogle. 

They walk out deeper until the water touches their shoulders and they have a bubble of pseudo privacy. Dan doesn’t actually care who can see them. All he can see is Phil. He hops up and wraps his legs around Phil’s waist, made weightless by the water. He drapes his arms around Phil’s neck and kisses him like it’s the last one he’s ever allowed.

“DanDanDan,” Phil murmurs excitedly. “Dan.”

Dan laughs. “What?”

“You’re my husband.”

He flicks the sweat-curled hair off his forehead. “We actually did that, didn’t we?”

Phil nods and presses their foreheads together. “I love you.”

Dan closes his eyes. “I love you so much.”

“Today was amazing, even if it was the scariest day of my life.”

Dan nods. “Also the best.”

“Definitely the best.” Phil’s hands slide up and down Dan’s back under the water. “I’m so lucky.”

Dan feels that telltale lump taking form in his throat yet again. “Don’t, Phil, seriously. I only just managed to stop crying.”

“We didn’t get to say actual vows, at least let me say something now.”

Dan bites his lip as goosebumps prick the skin down his arms. “I didn’t write anything.”

“I didn’t either,” Phil says. “I’m just feeling a lot right now.” He kisses the bridge of Dan’s nose. “Okay?”

Dan nods, clinging to Phil’s shoulders.

“I promise to love you forever. But I guess that’s kind of obvious, innit?”

Dan laughs. “Innit,” he mocks playfully. “Still nice to hear.”

“I promise to love you even when you try to convince me you don’t deserve it.”

Dan’s smile drops. “Phil…”

“Just tell me you’ll love me forever too.”

“Course I will, you idiot.”

Phil smirks. “You want that on record as your vow to me on our wedding day? ‘I promise to love you forever, you idiot’?”

“You know what?” Dan says. “Yeah. I do. I promise to love you even when you’re being an idiot.”

“I promise all that loving someone unconditionally entails.”

Dan snorts and kisses Phil’s mouth hard without finesse. “Just shut up, okay? Don’t get all poetic and shit, I can’t handle it. I promise that too. I would have done that whether we got married or not.”

“Well me too,” Phil says. “But now it’s official.”

“It’s super fucking official. Holy shit.”

Afterwards they sit on the beach next to Sinead and Nic, who produces a bottle of champagne from her purse like some kind of magician. Sand sticks to their wet clothes and they get drunk on the beach as they watch the sun set over the water.

Sinead sits between Nic’s open legs and leans back against her chest, Nic’s arm wrapped around her loosely to keep her place. Dan leans his head against Phil’s shoulder and Phil’s hand rests on Dan’s thigh. Dan wishes he could go outside himself and take a photo so he’d never forget a single detail of this moment. He wants to remember how every strand of hair on Phil’s head falls and the precise placement of every grain of sand that clings stubbornly to their sunburnt arms. 

His phone is still at the hotel, though, and he reckons if there was ever a day of his life he was likely to remember, this would be it.

“Right, Dan mate, I have to ask, how old are you?” Sinead asks. “You look like a wee baby.”

Phil laughs. Dan considers lying, but he’s loose from the booze so he just admits, “Almost nineteen.”

“Fuck me,” Nic says. “He _is_ a wee baby.”

Phil ruffles Dan’s hair. It should all feel condescending, but something inside him is proud. Eighteen may sound young to everyone else, but he knows what he’s been through in those eighteen years. He knows how hard he’s fought to get here. So he shrugs and says, “Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s no hint of sarcasm in Sinead’s voice when she says, “Good for you.”

“Aye,” Nic agrees. “Good for all of us. Can’t wait for all the cunts back home to shit themselves when they find out we’re married.”

Dan gapes. “You’re gonna tell people?” He feels like a complete idiot the instant he’s said it, like he’s too stupid to understand that not every gay person in the world chooses to stew in shame like he does.

But these women understand him. They’re the same, deep down, united by their rage against the machine. That’s why they’re here after all. Sinead gets a knowing look on her face and asks, “You lot aren’t out?”

“I was at uni,” Phil says. “And I am to most of my mates. And my parents, now.”

“It’s me,” Dan says miserably. “He’d be out if it weren’t for me.”

“Hey,” Phil murmurs, wrapping his arms around Dan’s shoulders and squeezing. He presses his mouth to the top of Dan’s head. “Don’t.”

“Seriously,” Nic says. “Don’t. Don’t apologize for protecting yourself. Ever.”

Sinead nods in solemn agreement. “We get enough shit without giving it to ourselves.”

“My dad’s a homophobe,” Dan says out of nowhere. Phil squeezes him tighter.

Nic smiles sadly. “Mine too. Kicked me out at fifteen when he found me in bed with a girl. Haven’t spoken to him since.”

“And now she’s happy,” Sinead says, picking up Nic’s hand and kissing the ring on her finger. She looks at Dan, and despite the fact that she can’t be more than ten years older, it feels distinctly motherly. “Things get better. They don’t stay hard forever.” She twists her head and tilts her face up and Nic leans down and kisses her and Dan can’t help but start to cry again.

It’s pitch black outside by the time they haul themselves off the beach and call for a cab, which they split back to the city. They get sand all over the car and Dan’s reasonably sure the driver shouts at them for it, but none of them understand his angry Portuguese and Nic gives the guy an enormous tip, so it’s probably alright in the end. Dan’s not the only one with tears in his eyes as they all exchange numbers and say goodbye to each other.

Sinead hugs Dan for a long time, kissing his temple before letting go and whispering in his ear to be kind to himself, always. “Do it to make your dad mad,” she says, and Dan wants to freeze time and live in this feeling forever.

He can’t do that, but he can hold Phil’s hand as they walk back to their hotel. Along the way they pass a shop with its door propped open and out of which wafts a smell that gives them no choice but to go inside. Dan very suddenly realizes they haven’t eaten since breakfast and the smell alone is enough to drive them crazy. They order sandwiches called bifana and eat them as they finish their journey back to the comfort of their hotel. 

They’re standing outside their room and Dan is digging into his pocket for the key card when Phil gasps. 

“What?” Dan asks, alarmed. 

“One of us has to carry the other through the door.”

Dan huffs a laugh. “Oh for fu— You’re so bloody stupid, Phil.”

“You promised to love me anyway.”

“I do.” He finally finds the card and pulls it out, hoping the day’s adventures haven’t rendered it unusable. 

“One of us is getting carried over this threshold, Daniel.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Fine. I’ll carry you. If you do it, I’m bound to end up concussed or worse.”

Phil sticks his tongue out, but doesn’t argue. Dan opens the door and keeps it propped open with his foot, looking at Phil expectantly. “Don’t blame me if I drop you.”

Phil gawks. “You can’t drop me! You’ll curse our marriage.”

“You just made that up,” Dan accuses. “There’s no superstition specifically about dropping.” He reaches a hand out to indicate that Phil should take off his backpack. Phil does, letting it fall to the ground, and Dan kicks it through the door into the room. 

“Maybe, maybe not. Still don’t want you to drop me.”

Dan rolls his eyes again. “Can we just do this? I’ve got a marriage to consummate.”

“Oh.” Phil looks strangely caught off guard. “I forgot about that.”

“Did you really?”

Phil nods. “I was busy thinking about mushy stuff.”

Dan makes the decision then to literally sweep Phil off his feet, getting one arm under Phil’s legs and the other behind his back to hoist him up with every ounce of strength he’s got.

It’s very nearly not enough. Phil yelps and Dan makes an unattractive grunting noise and he spread his legs almost in a squat to try to regain his center of balance. “Fuck, you’re heavy.”

“So romantic.” Phil clings ‘round the back of Dan’s neck, very clearly terrified he’s about to get dropped like a stone.

Dan doesn’t drop him. He gets his bearings and takes shuffling steps through the door, careful not to hit Phil’s head on the jamb. He puts him down the second they’re in the room, but all the joking energy has vanished, and his mouth is on Phil’s in an instant. Phil kisses back with matching desperation, holding Dan’s face in his hands like it’s precious.

Phil tastes like salt, which makes sense. They’re both sweaty and sandy and objectively pretty gross, and as much as Dan wants to take their clothes off immediately and fall into bed, he doesn’t want to sleep on gritty sheets afterwards, so he walks Phil towards the bathroom without breaking the kiss. They undress and climb in the shower where they stay under the hot spray until it starts to run cold. They’re both hard and touching each other, but it feels incidental to the kissing. 

He’s not sure why kissing as husbands feels different than kissing as boyfriends, but it does. In fact, everything feels different as husbands. Even just the way he takes up space in the world feels different now, like there’s a net under his tightrope that wasn’t there before. 

They get out of the shower and towel off hastily before kissing their way to bed. Phil lies on his back and Dan gets on top of him and everything is warm and damp and amazing. Dan takes Phil’s hand in his just so can feel the little band of metal around Phil’s finger. “We really did that,” he says against Phil’s lips and Phil giggles.

“I wonder when it’s gonna feel real.”

“It feels real and unreal at the same time.”

Phil nods, running his free hand up and down Dan’s back, then down lower across the curve of his ass. Dan presses his forehead against Phil’s neck and shivers as Phil drags the tips of his fingers lightly across Dan’s skin. 

“What do you want?” Phil whispers.

Dan shakes his head. There’s a definite idea in his head, one that’s been backburning since this morning, since Phil stood naked in front of the window and gave Dan an obscenely good view of the back of him. He’s got an idea, but it feels scary and he reckons he’s had enough scary for one day.

“You tired?” Phil asks.

Dan huffs. “Fuck no. Just… I dunno.”

Phil takes Dan’s hand and guides it down between them. Dan shifts his body to the side so he can wrap his fingers around Phil and squeeze.

“Don’t know what?” Phil asks. He rolls onto his side and reaches down to return the favour. They lie facing each other, stroking each other, looking into each other’s eyes.

“Don’t know what I want,” Dan says.

Phil’s eyebrows lift up. “S’not like you.”

It’s not. Dan isn’t usually been shy about telling Phil what he wants, at least not since the early days when he could barely breathe for how excited and terrified he was to be touching actual AmazingPhil.

“Yeah but this is like… big, right? Important.”

Phil doesn’t answer right away. He’s looking at Dan with such focus and moving his hand the same way. It feels better than a dry palm has any right to. A little noise escapes Dan lips when Phil rubs the pad of his thumb right up against the underside of the head. It hurts, but in a good way. In a _so good it’s too much_ way, which is incredibly fitting for where they find themselves now. 

“Fuck,” Dan breathes, closing his eyes and rolling his hips slightly to meet Phil’s fist. 

“Feel good?” Phil’s voice is deep and hot and cuts right to the parts of Dan that are dirty and wanting. He nods, reaching up to push his middle finger into Phil’s mouth. Phil closes his lips around it and flicks the tip of it with his tongue.

Dan reckons he could come just from that if he concentrated hard enough, but he’s not quite ready for that, so he pulls it out and reaches his hand back and down. Spit is enough if it’s just the one finger. “Don’t stop,” he says to Phil, proper humping into his hand now.

“Never,” Phil replies, tightening his grip. 

“Is this okay?” Dan asks, though he already knows the answer. “Can I come like this?”

Phil leans his face in and bites Dan’s lip. “You don’t have to ask me that, ever.” 

Dan kisses him, bites back, fucks himself with his own finger and moans almost inaudibly. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

He doesn’t.

Dan comes a minute later, and it’s so clear that Phil loves it that Dan can’t even be annoyed with himself for his lack of stamina. He ducks down and takes Phil into his mouth to finish what got interrupted the night before. Phil pets Dan’s hair and tells him he loves him, tells him he’s good, tells him he wants this forever. Dan takes his time. He wants it to be true when Phil tells him nothing feels better than this. 

-

A warm breeze floats in through the open window. The curtains are still wide open, the darkness of night touched by the warmth of the streetlights below. Dan can just make out the curve of Phil’s cheekbone and the glint of his eye as they stare at each other across the pillow. They’re not touching except for where Dan’s foot is wedged between both of Phil’s.

“Was that okay?” Dan asks.

“Why are you being stupid?”

“I feel like our first fuck as a married couple should have been—”

“Awesome?” Phil offers. “It was.” He reaches up and brushes Dan’s fringe to the side, stroking his thumb slowly down the line of Dan’s jaw. “It was for me, anyway.”

“Mate, I came after like two seconds, you know it was good for me too.”

“I like when you come quick,” Phil says. “Makes me feel like I did something right.”

Dan ignores him. “If we wait like half an hour I could probably—”

Phil claps a hand over Dan’s mouth. “Stop.”

“Mmf,” is all that comes out when Dan tries to speak into Phil’s palm. 

“Are you gonna freak out?” Phil asks. “Is that what this is?”

Dan shakes his head, though he’s not entirely sure freaking out is out of the question. 

“We have our whole life now,” Phil says softly. “We have the next like, sixty years to do all the sex stuff. We don’t have to do it all tonight.”

Dan pushes Phil’s hand off his mouth. “ _All_ the sex stuff? What does that mean?”

Phil makes a contemplative noise when he sucks his teeth. “Well. I dunno. I’m not really up for fisting.”

Dan snorts. “Okay. And you think I am?”

“I’m just saying, whatever you wanted tonight that you were afraid to ask for? We have time.”

Dan should probably be used to that by now. He doesn’t want to admit that Phil might be a little bit right when he says he’s psychic, but sometimes he’ll say things that cut right to a truth he shouldn’t know. “Shut up,” Dan mumbles.

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“Mreh.”

Phil chuckles, hooking his arm around Dan’s lower back and yanking him in close. Their chests press together and Phil says, “Tell me. Husbands don’t keep secrets.”

“You tell me one, then.”

Phil only takes a moment. “I wanted to marry you after the first month.”

Dan can’t help the grin that breaks out at that. “Fuck off.”

“It’s true. I told you, you make me proper mental.”

Dan can’t think of what to say, so he presses his mouth to Phil’s. Phil kisses back for about three seconds before pulling away and demanding, “Your turn.”

“I wanna top,” he blurts before he can even think of a nicer way to say it. “I wanna try it.”

“I knew it,” Phil says. 

“Shut up, no you didn’t.”

“I strongly suspected then.”

Dan huffs. “Get out of my head.”

“Never. It’s my favourite place.”

Dan bites his nose just for an outlet for all the nervous energy that’s suddenly releasing from his body. His hands are actually shaking a little. “I’m assuming you don’t want to?”

“Well you’d be wrong in that assumption.”

Dan pulls back so he can look at Phil properly. “Wait, really?” 

“I told you I wanna do everything,” Phil says like it’s obvious.

“Except fisting.”

“Well. I’d fist you, if you wanted that.”

“I don’t!” Dan shrieks. “Jesus. I just want you and your pretty butt.”

“Done.”

“Wow. Alright. That was easy.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Phil says. “I’m glad you’ll be my first.”

“Fuck, me too.” Dan kisses him. “Okay, we gotta talk about something else or I’ll die from nervous excitement. Your turn.”

“My turn for what?” Phil asks.

“More secrets.”

“Hmm.” Phil sucks his teeth again. “A sexy one?”

Dan flattens himself against Phil’s chest, wrapping an arm around him and squeezing. He wants to be as close to Phil as is humanly possible. “Anything. I just want to know you better than anyone. I wanna know every little fucking thing.”

Phil kisses the top of his head. “You already know me better than anyone ever has.”

Dan won’t accept that. “Tell me something.”

He’s quiet for a long while. “I have one, but… you’re not gonna like it.”

“Alright.” Dan takes a breath in, steeling himself. “Tell me.”

“I kissed Ian once.”

Dan’s stomach drops. “What?”

“We were like twelve years old,” Phil scrambles. “It was at school on this belfry thing and it was after that holiday I took to Florida where I had the surfer revelation and I wanted to see if I was right about wanting to kiss a boy or if it was just a fluke so I asked him if he could teach me how to kiss because I knew he’d kissed our friend Emily over the summer. I pretended like I needed to practice so I’d know how to do it when a girl finally asked me.”

“Wow.”

“It was the most awkward thing of my life,” Phil assures. “I wouldn’t even call it a kiss. Our lips barely touched and he spit on the ground and wiped his mouth super dramatically afterwards. It was almost enough to put me off kissing forever, I swear.”

As much as Dan hates thinking that Phil’s first kiss was with someone he still sees fairly often and had considered his best friend before Dan came along, the image is so adorable and sad and hilarious that he can’t help laughing. “Oh my god, Phil.”

“Ugh, I know, okay? I’ll never live it down. He’s reminded me about that a hundred thousand times. God.” He shakes his head. “Your turn, please. Take that image out of my head before I cringe to death.”

Dan goes quiet. He likes hearing about Phil’s secrets. Even when they’re kind of hard to hear, they’re playful at heart. Dan’s got a whole lifetime of experiences that are bottled up in deep dark places and he doesn’t want to go there right now, not on his fucking wedding night.

“I don’t really like Buffy that much.”

Phil reacts like he’s been mortally wounded. 

“I’m sorry!” Dan says defensively, but he’s definitely not managing to contain his laughter in the face of Phil’s slack-jawed offense. “I haven’t actually watched that much of it? Whenever you’d talk about it on skype I’d just be sneaky and google it.”

“Dan!”

“I’m sorry! I wanted you to like me,” Dan admits. “I tried to watch it a few times but I just couldn’t get into it.”

“The first season is kind of rubbish,” Phil admits. “It gets really good after that.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Nope.” Phil shakes his head emphatically. “We’re gonna binge it as soon as we get back to the motherland.”

“Fine.” Dan rolls his eyes fondly, but now he’s thinking about the fact that they only have a week here before they have to go back to England and live in separate houses, in separate bloody _cities_. They’ll have to go back to just friends, even though they’re officially as far from that as two people could be. 

He doesn’t want to spoil the mood of the night, so he bites his tongue and makes a conscious decision to table that particular breakdown. He can count on one hand the number of perfect days he’s had in his life, and this is one of them. He refuses to end it feeling sad.

“More secrets?” Phil asks, but not before he lets out a massive yawn.

Dan yawns back. “Nah. I can’t handle any more confessions tonight.”

“If you tell me you don’t actually like Muse then I want a divorce.”

“Don’t say that,” Dan scolds, and it comes out less like a joke than he’d intended. “And anyway, ‘course I like Muse. They’re almost as good as Kanye.”

Even in the dark, he can make out Phil’s eye roll. “Listen, I might have a confession of my own about Kanye…”

“Nope!” Dan exclaims gleefully. “Time to sleep!”

“Right. Night then, hubs.”

“Ew. No.”

“Hubby?”

“I swear to god, Phil, I will rip out your vocal cords.”

Phil laughs. “Fine.” He leans in to give Dan one last peck, then rolls over and shuffles back so Dan is spooned up against him. “Night, _Dan_. Love you.”

Dan kisses Phil’s shoulder and drops his arm around Phil’s waist. His husband’s waist. “Goodnight, idiot. Love you.”


	8. Chapter 8

It is one of his life’s greatest injustices that even a deep and abiding sense of contentment doesn’t guarantee him a good night’s sleep. He awakens after what can’t have been more than a few hours, sweat plastering his hair to his face. Phil is, as he always seems to be, sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed.

Dan peels himself from the sheets to lean back against the headboard. There is the faintest hint of rising sun outside the window, just enough for Dan to see a desaturated version of his new husband with his hair fanned out across the pillow, mouth hanging open as he dreams. He looks like everything Dan wants, and it burns a warmth in his chest to remember why they’re here and what they did yesterday, to remember that in theory, Dan gets to have this forever.

He decides suddenly that he needs his phone. He needs a photographic reminder of how he felt the morning after marrying his best friend.

He climbs out of bed and goes looking for his phone, doing his best not to make too much noise. They’ve only been here a day and their room is already somewhat trashed, and Dan can’t even blame it on Phil. At least not entirely. Their clothes are scattered everywhere, and a couple of still-damp towels lie in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. As Dan looks under discarded pairs of pants and peeled off socks, he lets his mind wander.

Someday, this is going to be a daily reality. It’s not a hotel room they’re going to share, but a real bedroom in a real house. A house that’s theirs all the time, not just when they’ve managed to steal some time away from the real world. The thought is equally as terrifying as it is comforting. They really did it. They really tied themselves together like that. He looks down at his hand, half expecting the ring not to be there, half expecting to realize that the whole thing was just an especially vivid daydream.

But the ring is still there. He curls his fingers into a fist and presses them to his mouth, feeling the metal against his sunburnt lips. He opens his mouth enough to clack it against his teeth a few times. It’s real. It’s definitely real.

Crouched down on the floor in a hotel room in Portugal in the early morning hours, knocking his shitty cheap wedding band against his teeth like a lunatic, he definitely lets the parts of him that are scared overtake the parts that are excited.

He’s married. To a man. He’s eighteen years old and he’s married to a man he’s been dating for less than a year. He’s married to a man and he hasn’t even told his parents he’s… whatever he is. Fuck, he hasn’t even told his _mates_.

Mates. Does he even really have those? Is there anyone in his life other than Phil that he actually trusts enough to proclaim them a true friend? At the moment he can’t think of one. All that comes to mind is people who made him feel varying shades of shame and fear and disgust over the years.

He finds his phone by accident, plastic and glass digging into his ass as he sits on the carpet verging on full panic. He turns it on and feels his heart rate skyrocket at the sheer number of missed calls and texts.

They’re almost all from his parents. He’s afraid to look.

So he doesn’t. He lays himself down on the messy floor and stares at the ceiling, trying to will his heart to slow and his chest not to feel like it’s about to squeeze all the air from his lungs.

He’s not sure how much time passes before the bed creaks, but there’s definitely more light in the room than there had been before. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays that Phil’s just rolling over in his sleep, but then he hears: “Dan?”

He doesn’t answer.

“What are you doing?” There is concern in Phil’s voice, but mostly just confusion.

Dan grunts, unable to formulate a lie that makes sense. He listens to the sounds that indicate that Phil is climbing out of bed and getting down on the floor with him.

“Are you alright?”

He laughs. “Um. I dunno.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” He opens his eyes. Phil’s face is above him looking down. He looks adorably sleep rumpled, his hair a right mess like a jet black lion’s mane. “You look like Scar.”

Phil frowns. “What?”

“From The Lion King.” He hopes Phil will laugh, but he just frowns harder.

“Did you fall out of bed?”

Dan sighs, closing his eyes and scrubbing his hand down over his face. “No.”

“Well then what the hell.”

“I was looking for my phone.” He lifts the hand that’s got the phone clutched within it. “See?” He turns on the screen to show Phil the flurry of activity he’d missed while it was turned off.

“Oh,” Phil says quietly.

“Yeah.”

Phil reaches out and strokes his thumb over Dan’s cheek, and time suspends itself as they look at each other. Dan wraps his hand around Phil’s wrist, and having him there helps quiet the big scary darkness that looms over his psyche. Just like always, Phil is Dan’s eternal sunshine, even when he’s got no idea what the fuck is going on in Dan’s head.

But maybe he’s got _some_ idea, because he says quietly, “I thought this might happen.”

“What?” Dan asks stupidly. “Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re freaking out.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it again. He’s got no real rebuttal, but acknowledging it feels like admitting something that doesn’t feel entirely like the truth. He’s freaking out, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t still incandescently happy. He can feel blind terror without regretting the choices that elicited it.

Words really and truly escape him, so instead he hooks his hand around the back of Phil’s neck and tugs him down for a kiss. It’s surprisingly passionate from the start, and continues until Dan opens his legs for Phil to fit between. That seems to serve as a reminder to Phil that things aren’t as they should be, and he pulls his face back to force Dan back into the moment.

“Dan.”

Dan lets his head thump back against the floor. “I’m fine.”

“I think there are things we can do,” Phil says. “It’s been less than a day. We can look it up.”

Dan frowns, pushing on Phil’s chest so he can sit up. Lying down suddenly feels way too vulnerable. “What are you on about? Things we can do about what?”

“Like, divorce but not divorce, I can’t remember—”

“What?” Dan interrupts, angry now. “You want a divorce?”

“No. I don't. Obviously I don’t. But I also don’t wanna lose you because of this.”

Dan shakes his head. “That’s not… I don’t— I don’t want that.”

“It’s alright, I wouldn’t—”

Dan claps his hand over Phil’s mouth. “Shut up, please. Like seriously shut up. Don’t give my stupidity so much validity.”

“You’re not stupid,” Phil mumbles under Dan’s palm.

“Sometimes I am, and you know it.”

Phil reaches up to pull Dan’s hand off his mouth. “It was probably a stupid thing to do and I’m the one who pushed you to do it. If anyone is stupid here, it’s me.”

All Phil’s words serve to accomplish is to solidify Dan’s resolve to hold a middle finger up to the demons in his head who would have him believe that he and Phil have just made a mistake. He can’t go a second longer letting Phil entertain the idea that the desire to share their life isn’t mutual.

“Don’t call my husband stupid.”

Phil looks like he’d smile if he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Dan says. “Please don’t take that away.”

“I’d never,” Phil says quietly. “Unless that’s what you wanted.”

“Well, I don’t. I only want you.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look convinced

Dan feels frustrated enough to tear his own skin off. He wishes he could just scoop his brain out and plonk it into Phil’s skull.

“Do you think we made a mistake?” Phil whispers.

Dan grabs his left hand and presses it to his mouth, and this time it’s Phil’s ring he clacks against his teeth. Apparently it’s ridiculous enough to break the tension, because Phil chuckles a little. “You’re weird.”

“It’s comforting.” He lifts his own hand to Phil’s mouth to demonstrate. “See?”

Phil laughs harder, taking Dan’s hand and clutching it in both of his. “I love you so much.”

“That’s why it’s not a mistake,” Dan says. “I love you too. I fucking need you in my life.”

“We don’t have to be married to be together.”

“No, but we are.”

Phil smiles, but it looks sad. “We are, yeah.”

“What do I have to say?” Dan asks, a hint of desperation in his tone. “What do I have to do to convince you?”

Phil shrugs, and Dan fights the urge to lose his composure. Phil squeezes Dan’s hand and looks into his eyes and Dan looks back and waits. He has to believe they can figure this out.

Eventually Phil says, “I reckon… we just need to be honest.”

Dan opens his mouth to agree, but Phil stops him. “Like _actually_ honest, even if it’s hard and we think we’re gonna hurt each other’s feelings or something.”

Dan snaps his mouth shut, then opens it again. “Okay.”

“You start.”

Dan looks down, just to gather his thoughts without having to stare into Phil’s ocean eyes, and somehow it’s only then that it really clicks for him that they’re both sat on the floor completely naked. “If we’re gonna have a heart to heart I need to put my willy away.”

So they help each other up and they each find a clean pair of pants and pull them on before climbing back into bed. They sit leaned back against the headboard and Dan kind of hopes they can just forget his unfortunate panic attack ever happened, but Phil angles his body facing Dan and says, “So.”

“So,” Dan repeats. “So…”

“Thoughts and feelings,” Phil prompts. “Go.”

Dan huffs a laugh. “No pressure, then.”

“There isn’t. It’s still just me. I just wanna know how you feel.” When Dan doesn’t answer, Phil elbows him gently in the ribs. “For better or worse.”

Dan has to smile at that. “I feel… overwhelmed.”

“Yeah. I feel that too.”

Dan tilts his head and looks at Phil a little more closely. “Really?” For some reason he hadn’t stopped to think that Phil might have fears too.

Because he’s selfish, probably. Only half a day in and he’s already a shit husband.

Phil looks down at his lap where he’s twisting his ring around his finger. “Yeah, I think so. It’s… it’s a lot, innit?”

“A lot of good, though,” Dan says. It’s true, and it’s what he feels, but he also just really needs to hear Phil agree. “Right?”

And he does. He looks up and says, “Of course.”

“Are you scared?” Dan asks.

“Yeah. You?”

Dan nods.

“What of?”

Dan makes a face, one that asks Phil not to make him spell it out, but Phil gives him a little smile. “I can go first, if you want.”

Dan nods again.

“I’m scared of what my parents are gonna say.”

Dan’s heart shoots up into his throat. “You’re gonna tell them?”

“I want to. Someday.”

Dan is quiet for a long time. The fact that Kath and Nigel knew they were dating was bad enough.

“For the sake of honesty,” Phil says gently, “can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

“Scared.” He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. The fear is all consuming.

“Because of what I said?” Phil asks.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to tell them right away.”

Dan laughs, a brittle sound completely devoid of humour or genuine amusement. “Right.”

“I told you, it scares me too.”

Dan pulls his legs up to his chest and rests his head on his knee. He turns it in Phil’s direction and tries to remind himself of the elation he’d felt yesterday on the steps of city hall, how utterly freeing it was to kiss Phil in public to a backdrop of cheers. He wants that feeling back.

“Why does it scare you?” Dan asks. “You think they’d be cross?”

Phil seems to know that Dan needs reassurance, because he shuffles in closer until their thighs are pressed together under the blanket. He slings his arm around Dan’s back and digs his chin into Dan’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You said they like me.”

“They do.” He tilts his head down to press a kiss where his chin had been a moment earlier. “But I’m twenty three, yeah? They only just found out I was gay. Reckon it’d be a bit of a shock.”

“Yeah,” Dan croaks.

“Plus I don’t even have a proper job. They’re on me about that all the time.”

“Mine too.”

“I know.” He squeezes around Dan’s back. “They just don’t understand.”

“They don’t even try to understand any of it,” Dan says.

Phil nods. He’s quiet for a moment, and Dan is comforted by the fact that he isn’t alone in his trepidations. He presses his forehead to Phil’s and looks right into his eyes and the feeling of safety he so often has when they’re together returns. This is his Phil and he gets to keep him, and fuck the rest of it. “Hey,” he says.

Phil smiles. “Hey.”

“Can it be just for us right now?” His insides vibrate with nerves, but Phil asked for honesty, and the truth is that Dan can’t fathom sharing this with anyone who’d be less than a hundred percent supportive.

Phil nods.

“We’ll tell them someday. I promise.” He can’t imagine that day, but he wants to believe himself capable of it somewhere in the distant future.

“Do you think you’ll ever want to tell yours?” Phil asks.

He thinks of his dad, angry and spewing insults over the phone. Then he thinks of his mum, and the moment of connection they shared the last time he’d seen her. “I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the most honest answer he can give. “I can’t imagine that.”

“But it’s not about me, right?”

Dan pulls back to give Phil a wounded look. “Phil.”

But Phil’s expression is earnest as he waits for the answer.

“Of fucking course it’s not about you,” Dan says. “None of my shit is ever about you. Ever.” He leans in to press his lips to Phil’s before Phil can argue.

Phil kisses back, but only once. “Are you still glad we did it?”

“ _Yes_ , Phil, fuck’s sake.”

Phil laughs. “Okay. Good. So no more freaking out?”

Dan bites his lip. “I… We're being honest, yeah?”

Phil nods. “Always, please.”

“I don’t know if I can promise I’ll never freak out.”

“Alright, well…” He peels himself off of Dan and sits up properly. “Tell me, then? If you’re freaking out, tell me, and we can deal with it.”

Dan buries his face in his knees. “Shut up,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna cry.”

“What else is new?”

Dan looks up to see Phil smirking, and a wave of pure relief washes over him. For some reason Phil being a little shit is the biggest proof of all that Dan hasn’t ruined anything yet. Nothing is broken. Phil still likes him a little bit.

“Your mum is new,” Dan says, shoving Phil in the shoulder hard enough that he falls sideways onto the mattress, laughing all the way. Dan follows, plastering himself on top of Phil’s body. “I kind of want to get you naked again but I also kind of want to go back to sleep for a thousand years.”

Phil’s hands are big and soft as they trail up and down Dan’s back. “We can definitely do both. We’re on holiday, we can do whatever we want.”

Dan opens his legs to straddle Phil properly, then leans down and kisses him. He means for it to be hot, but what actually happens is that he melts into Phil’s chest and they make out slow and soft until he feels completely boneless.

“Maybe sleep first,” Phil murmurs, gently rolling to the side and depositing Dan next to him on the bed. Dan clings to him but doesn’t argue, letting his eyes fall shut. Sleep first sounds like a good plan.

-

They sleep half the day away, waking up only because they’re both drenched in sweat thanks to the sun that pours in through the window.

Phil wants to go out and explore. Dan wants to stay in bed all day.

Phil wins the argument by promising that when they make it back to their bed, the wait will have been worth it.

-

They end up at another beach, this one surrounded by rocky cliffs. The sea is a crystal clear turquoise, and it almost hurts Dan’s eyes to watch the way the sun shines off the rippled surface in a million little diamonds of light. They’ve got swimsuits and towels shoved into a shared backpack, but for now they’re laid out on a sand-speckled blanket watching the water, listening to the waves and smelling the salt and cloying coconut of the sun cream Phil’s just rubbed into his cheeks.

There’s a clicking sound and Dan turns with one eye squinted shut to look at Phil, who’s just snapped a candid, likely unflattering photo of him.

“Oi, fuck off,” Dan says, plucking the camera out of Phil’s hands. “No paparazzi.”

“Sorry, but I had to. Your skin looks so nice under the blue sun.”

Dan bursts out laughing, rolling into Phil and pushing his forehead into Phil’s neck. “You fucking spork. What does that even mean?”

“I dunno. You’re so pretty that words stop making sense when I try to speak.”

Dan shakes his head fondly, then holds the camera up to capture Phil’s very adorable smile and the way his raven hair shines under the sun, which is in fact just as yellow as it ever was.

As much as he wanted to stay in the hotel room and put their bed to good use, he’s glad Phil managed to convince him to go outside. This is nice. Dan’s not thinking. He’s actively thinking about nothing except what he’s experiencing in the moment: the heat of the sun on his face, the sound of children splashing around in the ocean, Phil’s fingers laced between his. Nothing exists except for the here and now, which is why he doesn’t think twice about answering his phone when it starts buzzing in his pocket.

He only realizes his mistake when he hears his mum’s voice. “Oh thank god. Where the hell have you been?”

Immediately, the relaxation he’d fought so hard to enjoy today is obliterated. He rolls his eyes so far back into his head that it actually hurts a little. “Did you seriously forget that I’m in—”

“I was this close to calling the Lisbon police, Daniel, jesus christ. I’ve been ringing you for ages. I was looking up how to report someone missing in a foreign country.”

Dan’s stomach drops. He lets go of Phil’s hand and sits up. “I had my phone off.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear on me. I was worried sick.”

The defiant part of him wants to argue, to remind her that technically he’s an adult and he doesn’t actually have to answer to her anymore, but he can hear the pain in her voice, the dulling panic. “Sorry, mum,” he mumbles.

“Your father’s been ringing too.”

“I know. That’s why I turned off my phone.”

She sighs, and he goes on the defensive again. “He was a complete asshole for no reason.”

“I _know_ , Dan. That’s why he wanted to talk to you.”

“What?”

“He wanted to apologize.”

Dan snorts. “Right.”

“I know you two haven’t been getting along very well, and I know the fault isn’t only yours.”

“Wow, mum. Thanks.”

“Will you grow up a little bit? I’m trying to talk to you. Stop acting like a child.”

His insides roll over hot and angry, and he knows he’s in danger of doing exactly what she’s asking him not to do. The more maturity the situation demands, the more the hot-headed section of his brain wants to lash out. He fights the urge to hang up with every rational fibre left of his being and instead scrambles to his feet and starts heading away from the beach. He has to move or he’ll explode. “He’d be happier if I just fucked off forever anyway. I was doing him a favour.”

She sounds sad when she says, “That’s not true.”

“He’s never around, and when he is he acts like it’s all a huge inconvenience to him.”

“It’s not you, love. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Why do you defend him? You know I can hear you when you’re screaming at each other. He’s a tosser to you too.” His feet sink into the sand as he walks. He can feel it between his toes even though he’s wearing socks and shoes.

“It’s complicated,” she says again.

“Thought you said I needed to grow up and stop acting like a child.” He hasn’t looked behind him, but he doesn’t need to to know that Phil is following him.

He’s not sure if he likes that. He’s not sure he wants Phil to be witness to the level of pettiness and drama he knows himself capable right now.

“What does that have to do with—”

“You’re still _treating_ me like a child,” Dan interrupts. “You can’t even admit that dad wishes he never had me.”

She doesn’t answer right away, and he knows he’s struck a nerve. He can hear her breathing so he knows she’s still there.

“Don’t say it’s complicated,” he says, when he's waited out the silence as long as he’s able. By now he’s moved from sand to rock, following a narrow trail that seems to lead up to the top of the cliffs.

“Things are hard for us right now,” she says finally. “We’re not getting along, and I reckon we’re taking that out on you. But it doesn’t mean we don’t love you, Dan.”

Now he _feels_ like the child she’s been treating him like. He’s about to say something stupid, no doubt, when his foot catches on a rock and he falls forward, hard, breaking the fall with his knee. Pain explodes all down his leg, but it’s more than just the physical impact. He holds the phone up to his ear and says, “I'll call you back later.” Then he hangs up.

Phil is crouched down in an instant, worry written into every part of his face. Dan actually laughs. “Fuck. That hurt.”

“Are you alright?”

He shakes his head at his own stupidity. “I dunno. I guess. I would’ve thought it’d be you eating shit up here, not me.”

“Well, we’re not to the top, yet,” Phil says. “Still plenty of time.”

Dan laughs for real this time. “You’re fucking stupid and I love you. We don’t have to keep climbing. I just needed to…” He trails off. He doesn’t really know how to explain it anyway.

Phil smiles. “We should, though. We’re already halfway there.” He pauses a moment, then says. “You can ring your mum back when we reach the top.”

Dan sighs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “What if I don’t want to?”

“You said you would.”

Dan reaches out to hold Phil’s hand. It’s a weird reaction considering the grating kind of annoyance he’s feeling towards him now, but it does something to him. He can’t be cross with Phil when they’re holding hands. It just doesn’t work.

And Phil’s not trying to piss Dan off. Dan knows that. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like to have parents who haven’t always been there for him.

“Fine,” Dan says. “I’ll ring her back if we make it to the top without falling to our deaths.”

Phil grins. “Deal.”

Dan tries to stand up, but the pain makes him hiss. He’s sure he’s ripped up the skin on his kneecap, but his jeans are cropped just _below_ the knee, so he can’t actually see. “Or I could just stay here forever.”

“I’ll carry you on my back,” Phil says with a completely straight face.

Dan snorts. “If you want me to ring my mum, I need to still be alive.”

The tone shifts suddenly. Phil rubs his thumb along the back of Dan’s hand and says, “Your parents are my parents now too, technically, right? What’s yours is mine?”

Dan doesn’t know what to say to that. He pulls his hand from Phil’s grasp and uses it to push himself up off the rocky ground, ignoring the surge of pain.

Phil stands up quickly. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

Dan purposely avoids eye contact, doing his best to dust off the ass of his jeans. “I thought we had this talk already.”

“What d'you mean?”

Dan shrugs. “I can’t tell them. They can’t know that they’ve got a son-in-law, so what does it matter?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He takes Dan’s face by the chin and forces the eye contact Dan won’t accept on his own. “I just think things could be better.”

Dan jerks his face from Phil’s grip. “Things could be better if my dad wasn’t a homophobe who wishes he never had me. How does ringing my mum help with that?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Why is it up to me? Aren’t they supposed to love me unconditionally?”

“It’s not up to you. I’m sorry.” He reaches out for Dan again but stops himself. “Dan, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m not saying that.”

“My parents aren’t like yours, Phil. They don’t live to be my parents. I’m, like… incidental. I’m not the focus.”

“You’re not incidental to me,” Phil says. His voice has gone small and quiet.

Dan’s ire evaporates. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil says again. “It’s none of my business.”

Dan reaches out and grabs a handful of Phil’s shirt to pull him in closer. He doesn’t really know what to say, so he just uses his mouth to kiss instead.

It’s a good tactic. He feels better right away, reaching up to press his palm to Phil’s cheek. “I promise I’m not actually _trying_ to be such a fucking drama queen all the time.”

Phil smiles sadly. “I know.”

“For better or for worse, right?”

Phil nods.

-

They make it to the top. The view is incredible, but Dan knows he won’t be able to appreciate it until he gets this conversation over with, so he holds Phil’s hand firmly in his and faces the sky as he rings her back.

He dives right in, ignoring her small talk greeting to say, “Don’t defend him.”

She huffs a little, but says, “Fine.”

“I’m on holiday with my—” He looks at Phil, whose eyes have instantly gone owlishly wide. “I’m here to try to have fun,” he corrects. “I’m not doing anything wrong, even if he wants me to feel like I am.”

“I know, Dan. I know. I told him that. He does feel bad, for what it’s worth. You know how he can be.”

Dan scoffs. “Yeah. I do. That’s like, my entire fucking point.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she scolds. “I won’t defend him, but you can’t curse at me. I’m your mother.”

He looks down at his feet, his black trainers scuffed from the hike and the falling. “Fine. Sorry.”

“When I say things are complicated, I’m not trying to patronize you. It’s just that I don’t really know how to explain something like this. When two people have been together as long as your father and I have, things just… they get hard. Sometimes you don’t even know why you feel the things you do. You feel angry, resentful, what-have-you, and you don’t always have a clear explanation for it. It’s just… it’s hard, love. You won’t understand until you’re much older, but it’s hard, being an adult. Growing older. Having responsibilities.”

Dan squeezes Phil’s hand. “It feels like you lot have always seen me as just another responsibility. Or a mistake.”

“Dan.” To her credit, she does sound genuinely heartbroken, and in that moment he actually regrets unleashing his venom on her with quite so much force.

“I know I fuck— I mess up a lot,” he mutters. “I don’t need him to keep reminding me of how much I suck.”

Phil squeezes his hand, and Dan knows it’s his way of denying that particular statement.

“We all suck sometimes,” she says. He wasn’t expecting that. “Sometimes your dad sucks a lot.”

Dan laughs.

She laughs too. Then she says, “He knows it, too. That may be hard for you to see, but he does. He’s had a hard—”

“Mum. No defending.”

“Fine, fine. Just… I can’t let you carry on thinking we don’t love you, Daniel. I can’t.”

He makes a noncommittal sort of grunting noise.

“Can you do something for me, love?”

His impulse is to say no. He fights it. “What?”

“Next time he rings, answer. Or at least, take the time on your trip to let your anger with him fade. He wants to do better.”

He bites his lip and looks at Phil. He doesn’t want to spend the first days of his marriage being angry, he really doesn’t. He doesn’t actually want to think about his dad at all. “Tell him not to ring me. Just… I need this trip to be fun.”

She’s quiet, then says, “Your trip with Phil.”

“Yeah.”

“How is he?”

“He’s good.” Dan tugs Phil in a little closer and presses his face into his neck. Just for a moment, like that fleeting bit of contact can recharge him of all that’s been drained. “We’re good.” His heart hammers against his ribcage.

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad.”

“I have to go now, mum.”

“Alright. I love you, bear.”

He mumbles, “you too,” then hangs up and shoves his phone back into his jeans. He looks at Phil and says, “Sorry.”

Phil doesn’t say anything at first. He pulls Dan in close and wraps his arms loosely around his waist. Dan wants to hide his face, take some time to gather himself, but Phil is looking at him like he’s a work of art that needs to be studied.

“What?” Dan has to ask eventually, made sheepish by Phil’s unwavering attention.

“Nothing,” Phil says gently. He kisses him once on the forehead, and they stand there swaying gently in each other’s arms for a while on a cliff beside the sea.

“I think want to tell her some day,” Dan says. “But I can’t see it. I can’t picture a day where I’m brave enough to do that.”

Phil rubs his back. “It’s alright.”

“I won’t even see them that much after the summer.”

Phil nods.

“I never want us to be like them.”

“I know,” Phil says. “We won’t be.”

“Will we be like Kath and Nige?” Dan teases.

Phil shoves him gently away, then immediately pulls him back. “No, stupid. We’ll be us.”

“Mm.” Dan runs his fingers through Phil’s fringe, pushing it up off his face. “I like us.” He’s about to lean in for a kiss when he hears voices that indicate he and Phil are no longer alone.

They pull apart instinctually, but a friendly looking lady is already walking toward them and speaking in Portuguese.

“Desculpa,” Phil says, smiling apologetically. “We’re English.”

The woman switches to flawless English. “Do you want me to take your picture?” She mimes taking a photo with her hands. Dan realizes she must have seen them all over each other a moment ago, and for maybe the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel panicked about it. He wonders if there’s any way she’s noticed the rings on their fingers. He reckons probably not, but the thought that she _could_ have makes something warm and proud bloom in his chest. Phil hands her his camera and says they’d love a picture.

She takes many. They do a bunch of silly poses, not quite brave enough for anything overtly romantic. Dan decides they can take some of those for themselves. Maybe tonight, in their room. A few more to add to the private collections they each keep in their camera rolls and laptops.

For now, there are certain things that must remain between the two of them. There are certain truths that are no one else’s to know. But later on, when they’ve gone out for dinner and brought back a cheap bottle of wine as has become holiday hotel room custom, he does still tell the internet at large a few things. He tells Twitter that Phil complimented his appearance in the most endearingly Phil way possible, and he even shares a few photos. One was taken by the kindly Portuguese photographer. The other is one Dan hadn’t even known about until Phil showed it to him.

It’s one of him, taken clandestinely by Phil in a quiet moment before they climbed down the cliff and returned to the beach. It’s nothing special, really, but at the same time, it is. It feels like looking through Phil’s eyes. And even though it’s himself he’s looking at, the same person he’s spent eighteen years trying desperately not to be, when he looks at this particular photo he can tell that Phil loves him. He can feel it so profoundly that for a moment, he loves himself as well.

That’s the picture he shares with the internet, with his fans and detractors alike. Everyone will know who took this picture, and everyone will know that Dan wanted people to see it. He may not be able to show anyone the ring that sits on his finger or the one Phil’s got to match, but he can show them this, and for now, that’s enough.


	9. Chapter 9

The slope of Phil’s shoulder looks a little different on their last morning in Portugal. It’s the first thing Dan sees when he wakes up, and it draws Dan’s mouth to it like a magnet. He wants to kiss every new sun spattered freckle, but he only gets to a few before Phil is turning over to return the favour. He kisses Dan’s shoulder and then his neck and then his mouth, rolling on top of him so Dan can feel that he’s hard. He welcomes the weight on his chest, running his hands up Phil’s back to tangle into his jet black nest of sleep tangled hair. 

“Morning,” Dan murmurs between kisses.

Phil answers with a deep throated hum, and he isn’t the only one who’s hard. Dan would find it ridiculous how much sex they’ve managed to have in a week if it didn’t feel so goddamn amazing every time. 

And tomorrow they won’t be able to. So he’s going to enjoy this last time even more; their last fuck in the country that married them. 

Phil’s weight is on his elbows, bracketing either side of Dan’s head. He uses his hands to push the hair off Dan’s face and leans down to kiss right between his eyebrows. “Prettiest glabella,” he says, and Dan’s heart swells. 

“I don’t wanna leave.”

“We’re not,” Phil says. He kisses down Dan’s jaw to his neck. “We’re staying here forever. Right here, in this bed.”

Dan’s whole body ripples on a chill as Phil’s mouth works in just the right spot. He shudders at the intensity of it, and feels Phil’s lips turn up in a smile against his skin. 

“Never gonna get tired of that,” Phil says.

“Fuck.” Dan slides one hand down Phil’s back to squeeze his ass. “Me neither.”

“You’re so easy.”

Dan shakes his head. “It’s just you.”

Phil doesn’t argue, and Dan’s glad. They’re not empty words, and he thinks Phil knows that by now. There’s never really been anyone else, and now there never will be. 

“Phil,” he says, and Phil just hums again, sucking lightly at Dan’s neck. Dan’s not sure what he was about to say, because the humming and the sucking feel so good that it’s all he can think about. He spreads his legs and hopes that’s enough to communicate what he wants.

Phil chuckles breathily. “Again? You sure?”

Dan nods. He doesn’t care that they just did it last night, that they’ve done it almost every day since they got here and he’s honestly a bit sore from it at this point. If anything, he likes the reminder. 

He likes that when Phil finds the lube and slicks his fingers, it takes no time at all to get a couple of them inside. He likes that once Phil’s rolled a condom over his cock and positioned himself between Dan’s legs, he slides in easily. Dan wraps his legs around Phil’s waist and pulls him forward to feel the weight of him again. 

Phil’s mouth finds Dan’s neck, probably in no small part because of the way Dan arches it shamelessly, but his attention is clearly on the spot where his body disappears into Dan’s, because he’s not kissing or sucking so much as breathing with parted lips as his hips roll in and out. Dan reaches up and cups the back of Phil’s head, feeling that alien skull in his palm and pressing lightly.

“Bite me,” he croaks.

Phil does. It’s good, so good. Maybe even better than Phil’s belly rubbing against his cock or the thickness pushing into him with every thrust. Or maybe it’s just the combination. He hasn’t got it all figured out yet. He can’t say why he likes what he likes or pretend it makes sense to him, he just knows that Phil’s mouth is magic when it’s attaching itself to Dan’s throat.

Dan is greedy. He says, “Harder,” and Phil fucks him harder, because Phil doesn’t care that Dan is greedy. Dan thinks Phil is greedy too, greedy for the way Dan falls apart so spectacularly beneath him. He takes a moment to imagine that, to picture what it will be like when the roles reverse and he’s the one taking Phil apart, and the mental image alone sends Dan’s gut swooping. He squirms, pushing down harder on Phil’s head. “Harder,” he says again, but he’s not talking about the fucking.

Somehow Phil knows that. He says, “I can’t,” and, “it’ll leave a mark,” and Dan says, “I don’t care.”

Again and again he says it, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,” and what he means is _I want it to leave a mark. I want everyone to see. I want everyone to know_. It doesn’t matter that he may not feel that way later, when the heat of the moment softens and the world outside their bubble of sex and skin and sweat exists again. Right now there’s nothing but this, and Dan wants Phil to graffiti the temple with mouth shaped bruises that won’t fade when they pull apart. 

Eventually his begging works, because they’re both greedy. Dan wants to take and Phil wants to give, and Dan cries out when Phil bites him so hard it hurts. He slips his hand between them and tugs his cock as Phil fucks and bites and pleasure marries pain into something hot and bad and delicious. It’s just another in a long list of things that Dan doesn’t understand, but Phil gives it to him so well that he can’t spare a single second to feel insecure about it. 

Dan says, “I’m gonna come,” expecting Phil to grunt encouragements. He’s right on the edge, that moment where everything inside him feels stretched tight, where every nerve ending in his body is alight and poised to erupt.

But Phil doesn’t grunt encouragements. He grabs Dan’s wrists and pins them above his head. “No,” he says. “Not yet.”

Dan comes anyway, because apparently the only thing hotter than being given what he wants is seeing Phil take what _he_ wants. He bites down on his lip so hard he tastes blood, pumping warmth and wet between their stomachs. 

“Fuck,” he says, when his breath uncatches itself from his throat. “Fuck. I’m sorry. Keep going.”

He doesn’t need to say it. Phil hadn’t stopped. But he wants it to be known. He doesn’t want Phil to feel guilty. His body twitches at the overstimulation, but his brain is a pounding chorus of _yes yes yes_. He likes it when it hurts a little. He’s probably going to have to admit that to himself now. 

It’s more than that, though. He’s not chasing anything for himself anymore, which means he has all the attention to give to watching Phil do the chasing. 

It’s beautiful, in a filthy way. He’s sweating, panting, flushed from his cheeks all the way down his chest. Dan pulls his hands free and hooks an arm around Phil’s neck, tugging him down to whisper hot horrible things in his ear, things he knows Phil will never admit he likes but that make his thrusts go stuttered and desperate until they stop completely. Phil’s body tenses and Dan clings to him, holding the lobe of his ear between his lips and clenching around Phil’s cock.

When Phil pulls out he does so gently. When he flops off Dan’s body and onto his back, Dan goes with him, plastering himself up against Phil’s side. He’s going to be proper sore later, especially sat on a plane and then a train and then a taxi, but he’ll be glad for it when he’s back in his awful brown room, alone in his bed and thinking back to how good and full and alive he felt in this moment.

He watches Phil peel the condom off, suddenly delicate about it now that he isn’t flooded with fuck brain hormones. Bodily fluids are gross again, and Phil holds the spent latex up away from himself with the very tips of his fingers like it’s something particularly horrible. Dan rolls his eyes and grabs it away from him, hauling himself out of bed to chuck it in the bin. “You’re such a princess, Phil,” he calls out, reaching into the shower to start the water running. “Are you coming?”

Phil grunts like he can’t imagine anything worse, but a few moments later he comes shuffling into the bathroom stark naked. The hair leading down from his navel is matted with Dan’s come and his dick is glistening wet, and yeah, objectively it’s kind of gross, but Dan doesn’t see it that way at all. In fact, he loves it rather fiercely. No one else gets to see Phil anywhere near this level of dishevelment. Only Dan. 

And the memory of Phil being precious about _not_ letting Dan see it is recent enough that he appreciates it now all the more. Sometimes Dan’s feelings are so intense that he forgets how relatively short a time they’ve been together. A year ago he was just another of Phil’s fans, watching him over the internet and pining for his attention. 

Dan’s eyes catch on the golden glint of Phil’s ring, and he’s astounded for the hundredth time how far away he is from the boy he was then. He can only imagine where they’ll be at this time next year. 

Manchester. They’ll be in Manchester. Not living together, but close enough. A hell of a lot closer than now. 

Phil steps into the shower and pulls Dan in with him, effectively putting an end to his inner musings. “Is it a hobbit hair day?” he asks hopefully, tipping his head back to get his own wet. 

“Hell no.” Dan grabs the shampoo off the ledge of the tub and squirts some into his hand. “Turn around.”

-

They order breakfast up to their room, indulging in fancy lattes and way more pastries than any two people should be eating, and they eat them in bed. 

Phil eats. Mostly Dan drinks his coffee and tries not to dwell on the sadness that’s trying so hard to settle itself into his chest. He drinks, and he talks. “Is this our honeymoon?”

Phil frowns. “Hm. I dunno. I guess? What are the rules of a honeymoon?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Phil carefully places his half eaten egg tart on his thigh and types something into his phone. “According to the internet, a honeymoon is a vacation spent together by a newly married couple.” He looks up at Dan. “So I guess this qualifies.”

“That’s fucking insane.”

“What is?”

“We’re a married couple,” Dan says. “That’s like… it sounds like a foreign language or something.”

“But it’s us,” Phil says, picking up his tart and shoving it in his mouth. He grins.

“I wonder if it’s ever gonna stop feeling like a fever dream.”

“Probably when we’re old and wrinkly the shine will have worn off a bit.”

Dan chews his lip. “I reckon if we… if someday we tell people. That might make it feel real.”

Phil frowns, reaching out to squeeze Dan’s foot. “Don’t get sad.”

“I’m trying not to. Sorry.”

“It’s real, whether we tell people or not.” He lifts up his hand to showcase the band of cheap gold plated metal. “If it ever starts to feel like it’s not, just look at yours.”

Dan looks down at his left hand. “Reckon we’ll have to take them off though, yeah?”

“No,” Phil says, like he doesn’t need even a split second to think about it. “We can just… move them to a different finger. Or wear them on a chain like a necklace. Or put them on our right hands.” He smiles. “I’m never taking mine off.”

“I do wanna tell people,” Dan says quietly. “Some day.”

“I know. I do too.”

“We will.”

Phil nods. “Definitely.”

Dan smiles until another, sadder thought makes it fade. “Are we even married when we go back to England?”

“Dan—”

“No, I know, but like. I mean, is it legal? Does it cross over even though you’re not allowed to do it there?”

Phil brushes the crumbs off his jeans. “Who gives a shit?”

That pulls Dan up short. “Uh—”

“I don’t,” Phil says. “It’s not for anyone else, anyway. We know we are. So we are.”

Dan turns away from Phil for a moment, just so he can put his half finished latte on the bedside table. When he turns back, Phil’s done the same. 

“You’re right,” Dan says.

“I usually am.”

“You’re not allowed to be mad at me for being an idiot,” Dan continues, ignoring Phil’s sass. “You married me already knowing I make everything harder than it needs to be.”

Phil’s eyes go soft. “You don’t.”

Dan stares into those soft eyes for a long time. They’re the same colour as the sea was when they swam in it fully clothed and made their vows to each other. “I love you.”

Phil smiles. His hair is falling into his eyes, and his nose is peeling a bit from getting burnt so many times in quick succession. “Love you more.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “We’re not playing that game.”

“Because you know I’d win.”

“You’d win because you’re stubborn, not because you’re right.”

“Winning is winning.”

Dan reaches out to shove at Phil’s shoulder. It’s a stupid argument, anyway, who loves who more. He can’t imagine that anyone in the world could love anyone more than he loves Phil, but he’s happy to live in the knowledge that maybe Phil is feeling exactly the same way about him. As easy as it is for Dan to convince himself that he doesn’t deserve it, Phil still wants to give it to him. This week has been undeniable proof of that. The ring on his finger is proof. 

-

The sadness returns full force on the plane. Dan can’t fight the mental image that they’re flying away from freedom. He’s got a phone full of ignored calls from his dad and his ring suddenly feels like it’s weighing his hand down. 

Phil is asleep on Dan’s shoulder, has been for the past hour. Dan’s skin itches at the feeling of being exposed, wondering if it’s possible that they’re sharing the air with a fan. It’s unlikely, but not impossible. He hates that he even cares. 

He hates himself for a lot of things, and that includes his selfishness. He should let Phil sleep. It’s what a good boyfriend - a good _husband_ \- would do. He turns his head toward Phil’s and whispers his name until Phil’s eyes are blinking open, because he’s not a good husband. Maybe someday he will be, but not yet. Right now he just wants. 

Phil lifts his head and smiles sheepishly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Oops.”

“I don’t wanna go back,” Dan says in a low voice. “I literally can’t do it, Phil.”

Phil’s smile drops, his hand coming down to rest on Dan’s thigh. “It’s just for a week. Then we’ll go to LA.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

Dan laughs. “I completely fucking forgot about LA.”

“I kind of did too until, like, right now.” He leans a little closer into Dan’s space. “We were busy getting married and having the most ace honeymoon ever, after all.” He squeezes Dan’s thigh, then pulls his hand away.

“Ace.” Dan shakes his head fondly. “You’re so stupid. But yes, LA.”

“It’s gonna be so fun. We get to see Bryony again, and PJ. We get to go to freaking Disneyland.”

Dan feels his smile growing wider. It does sound fun. “You have such better mates than me. Like, I’m actually looking forward to seeing them.”

“They’re your mates too, now.”

“That’s mental. My life is mental.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “I’m friends with Paperlilies and married to AmazingPhil. What the fuck.”

Phil elbows him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of my brain exploding.” Then, because apparently he’s never allowed to feel good for more than a few moments at a time, his mobile rings. 

It’s his mum. He ignores it, but now he’s thinking about her, which makes him think about his dad, which reminds him of how much he doesn’t want to go back to Wokingham, even if it _is_ only for a week. 

He groans, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “My parents barely even let me go on _this_ trip.”

“It’s all paid for,” Phil points out. “It’s a great opportunity. They should be happy for you.”

“There are a lot of things they should feel in my general direction that they really don’t,” Dan says darkly. 

Phil looks a little like someone’s just slapped him across the face.

“Sorry,” Dan says. “I’m sorry. It’s fine. They can’t stop me from going. I can deal with it for a week. It’s fine.”

“After LA, we’ll go to Jamaica,” Phil says. 

Dan forces himself to smile, but he can’t help pointing out, “You don’t know if I’m allowed to come.”

“I don’t care,” he says resolutely. “I’ll figure it out. They want me. I have leverage.”

Dan smirks, whispering again. “You’re kind of hot when you’re being bossy and demanding.”

Phil lifts his eyebrows so high they disappear into his hair. “Interesting.”

“Wha— not like that!”

“I recall something happening earlier today that would disagree with you.”

Dan feels himself flush. He can only imagine how beet red his face is. “Oh my god, Phil, _shut up_.”

Phil’s tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he giggles and Dan can’t help laughing too, because Phil is the only person who can be actively laughing at him and still make it feel like an expression of love. Dan’s going to miss that. A lot. Even if it’s only a week before he gets to have it again. 

-

The thing is, after a week in Heaven, the prospect of spending a week in Hell is too much for Dan’s fragile little heart to bear. 

They’re stood in front of baggage claim watching for their suitcases when Dan loses the good fight against his own traitorous emotions and starts to cry. It’s silent and self contained, nothing more than a tight throat and a single humiliating tear rolling down his cheek, but Phil is Phil, which means he notices right away. He steps in close to Dan so their shoulders press together and says, “I have an idea.”

Dan sniffles, feeling extra pathetic. He wipes his nose on the sleeve of his cardigan and asks, “What?”

“Just watch for my bag, yeah? Be back in a sec.”

He pulls his mobile out as he walks away.

Dan collects their luggage, then hauls it over to a nearby bench to wait for whatever the hell Phil’s doing to be over. His stomach is leaden. He can see out the airport windows that the sun’s about to set and he still has to make his way to the train station and buy a ticket back to Reading, then catch a bus to Wokingham. 

He supposes he could ring his mum, but he reckons he’d rather bloody walk from here than talk to either of his parents right now. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to wait very long before Phil is stood before him, smiling smugly.

“What?” Dan demands.

“How’d you like to spend one more night with me?”

Dan frowns. “Obviously I want to. What are you—”

“Martyn said we could stay at his!” Phil exclaims, all but clapping his hands together excitedly.

“Your brother?”

“No, the other Martyn I know well enough to crash at his flat with zero notice.”

“Fuck off,” Dan says, kicking out at Phil’s shoe. Hope is starting to bloom, though, warm and syrupy. “Can we really?”

Phil nods. “We’ll probably have to sleep in his lounge and it won’t be comfortable but—”

“I’m down,” Dan says. “I’m so fucking down.”

Phil sits on the bench and angles his body to face Dan’s. “So, I haven’t told him. About us.”

“Okay.”

“But he might know anyway. Since my parents do. They might have mentioned it, I can’t be sure.”

Dan’s heart kicks against his ribs a little, but he can handle that. “Yeah. That’s… that’s fine.”

“We’ve never talked about it, but I’m pretty sure he’s known I’m gay for a while.”

Dan’s still in awe of Phil’s ease with that word. He shouldn’t be, but he is. “Alright.”

“I’m guessing you don’t wanna tell him about…” Phil taps Dan’s ring.

“Um. I don’t… I’m not really ready for that.” Now his heart is pounding. “Do you?”

Phil shrugs. “If I was going to tell anyone, it would probably be him. Or maybe Ian.”

“I’d honestly rather tell Ian,” Dan says. “Family feels… big.”

Phil nods. Dan doesn’t _think_ he looks disappointed, but he wouldn’t put money on it. “Someday,” Dan says, squeezing Phil’s hand for a quick moment.

Phil smiles. He’s about to say something in return, when someone suddenly stops in front of their bench. Two someones, actually, a couple of teenage girls with emo haircuts and excited looks on their faces.

Dan jerks his hand away from Phil’s.

“Oh my god, it is!” one of them says. “I told you!” They’re both looking at Phil, but not actually speaking to him. Dan thinks it’s strangely dehumanizing, like Phil isn’t even a person to them, but some kind of particularly majestic zoo animal. 

“Hi?” Phil says.

They both giggle. They can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen years old.

Then one of them finally notices that Phil isn’t alone. “Oh my god!” she squeaks. “Dan!”

Dan smiles and gives an awkward little wave. “Hello.”

They don’t introduce themselves or even mention being fans of Dan and Phil’s videos, they just say, “Can we get a photo?” 

Dan turns to Phil, who nods almost imperceptibly. They stand up off the bench and huddle in on either side of the girls. One of them holds her phone out and tries to take the picture, but she can’t get the four of them in the frame. Dan says, “I’ll do it, I’ve got noodle arms.” He takes the photo, and the girls are on their way as quickly as they’d appeared.

Dan sits back down, so Phil does too.

“That’s still so fucking weird every time,” Dan murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Dan wants to ask if Phil reckons they saw the hand holding, but he bites his tongue. Even if they did, they can’t prove anything to anyone else. His and Phil’s secrets are still their own.

“Pretty awesome, though,” Phil says, and Dan looks up at him to see a smile so big and genuine that any fear the encounter inspired is instantly erased.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling back. “I guess it is.”

“So,” Phil says. “Martyn’s?”

Dan nods. “First we should—” He pulls his wedding band off and relocates it to his index finger. Phil does the same, only his ring he slips onto his thumb.

“That’s too big for you if you can fit it there,” Dan says. 

“Well, it fits here perfectly.” Phil smiles, giving Dan a goofy thumbs up. “And it doesn’t mean any less to me on a different phalange, by the way.”

Dan snorts, swatting at him. “Shut up, Phoebe.” He looks down at his hand and allows himself a moment of sadness that he can’t just be brave enough to wear it where it’s supposed to be. “Do you think people will figure it out? If they notice we both suddenly have matching rings, even if they aren’t on the same finger?”

Phil shrugs. “I really don’t care.”

Dan may not be as brave as he wants to be, but he’s brave enough to say, “Okay. Me neither, then,” and mean it. 

-

It’s evening by the time they’re stood outside the door to Martyn’s flat. Dan’s heart is pounding, and not just because he had to drag his suitcase up six flights of stairs to get there. He’s met Martyn before, but only really in passing. Now he’s married to his brother, fresh off a holiday that had them at each other like rabbits for a week straight. It’s just a little nerve wracking.

Phil gives Dan’s hand a squeeze before he knocks on the door. 

“It’s open,” a voice from inside shouts. 

The flat is small. Dan’s not sure why that surprises him. It’s not messy, but definitely looks lived in. Martyn is draped across his sofa, and a woman with bright red hair is sat next to him, playing some kind of weird teardrop-shaped musical instrument Dan has no name for. She smiles at them, and says, “Hello boys,” like she’s greeting long lost friends.

Martyn waves. “Hiya.” 

Dan feels unbearably awkward, but Phil breaks the ice right away. “You can’t leave your bloody door unlocked, Mar, this is London.”

Martyn laughs. “Oh do tell me the rules, mate. You have so much experience living on your own, don’t you?”

The woman says, “Oi, none of that.” Her voice is high and soft, and it’s obvious that she’s Martyn’s girlfriend from the look of pure adoration he gives her.

“Sorry, Corn,” Martyn says, “but I can’t help it. He’s so insufferably annoying.”

She turns away from him and looks at Phil. “Introduce me to your friend.”

“This is Dan,” Phil says. 

“I’m Cornelia.” She reaches her hand out, and Dan stumbles forward to shake it. It’s a tiny hand, and he feels like an absolute hulking monster as his fist all but envelops hers. 

“You’re so tan,” she says. “I’m jealous.”

“Me too,” Phil says, toeing off his shoes. “We spent a whole week in Portugal and all I got was burnt.”

“And freckled,” Dan points out, then instantly feels queasy wondering whether or not it’s normal heterosexual behaviour for a guy to notice things like that about another guy. It probably isn’t.

If Cornelia has any thoughts about Dan’s knowledge of Phil’s melanin distribution, she doesn’t mention them. Instead she says, “Ooh, Portugal. Such a beautiful country.”

“It was,” Phil says, and Dan doesn’t miss his quiet little smile. “It always is, but this time a little extra.”

“Anything good is a little extra good when you’re sharing it with the right person,” Cornelia says softly.

Dan’s stomach has fully fallen out of his ass, but the moment doesn’t linger. Martyn stretches his arms above his head and asks, “You lot hungry?”

“Starving,” Phil says.

His brother nods. “Right, then. What’re you making me?”

Phil plops himself down on the loveseat perpendicular to the sofa. “I’m _making_ you order me pizza.”

Martyn clicks his tongue. “First you make a hotel out of me, and now a restaurant.” He turns to look at Dan. “How do you put up with this div all the time, mate?”

Cornelia saves him having to think of a clever response by pushing her palm into her boyfriend’s face and saying, “Probably the same way I manage to put up with you.”

Dan looks at Phil, sure the panic is written all over his face. Phil just smiles that soft smile of his and pats the space next to him. Dan goes. It’s a tight fit, and they’re pressed together from their shoulders all the way down to their knees.

Cornelia notices, and laughs. “You two look like sardines. Giant sardines.”

Dan says, “You should have seen us on the plane. Those seats aren’t built for people over five foot five.”

“I wouldn’t know!” She stands up to demonstrate, and Dan can’t help laughing. She can’t be taller than five feet. 

Martyn reaches out and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back down into his lap. She huffs and turns her head to kiss him on a smile. It’s intimate. It makes Dan feel all warm and fluttery inside, and he reckons he should look away, but he doesn’t.

A moment later she pushes Martyn away playfully and stands up again, asking if anyone wants drinks. Dan volunteers to help her and follows her to Martyn’s little kitchenette while Martyn and Phil argue in the background about pizza toppings. 

Dan leans against the kitchen counter, hoping he looks less nervous than he feels as she pulls a bottle of tequila out of the freezer. 

“How do you feel about margaritas?” she asks, then narrows her eyes. “Wait. How old are you?”

Dan laughs. “I’m eighteen. And I love them.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You look like a baby, I just wanted to be sure.”

“S’alright, I get that all the time. Everyone always thinks I’m way younger than I am.”

“Me too, actually.” She pulls out a tray of ice cubes and hands them to Dan.

“How old are you?” he asks.

“Thirty two.”

His jaw drops before he has the sense to stop himself. “What.”

She laughs. “Yeah. I know.”

He suddenly _feels_ just as much of a baby as he must look to her. He wouldn’t have guessed older than twenty five. “Sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head at himself. “I guess it’s a compliment?”

She shrugs. “I think people mean it to be one, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to look older. And I feel so much better about myself now than I did when I was your age. I like getting older, so I wouldn’t mind if I looked it.”

He nods. He’s already decided he loves her. “Sorry. I’m a twat.”

She smiles, pushing a flaming red curl off her forehead. “You’re not. You’re lovely.” She hands him a lime and a knife. “Can you cut this up for me?”

He cuts the lime and juices it while she fills four glasses with ice. He’s not usually so bad at small talk that he can’t think of a single thing to say, but he’s so intimidated that his brain is completely blank. 

It gets worse when Martyn appears in the kitchen without Phil. He hops up onto the counter and grabs a wedge of lime, sticking the flesh of it between his teeth and biting down. 

“I was using that,” Cornelia scolds gently.

He smiles a green smile and then flings the wedge in the direction of the sink. “Sorry.” He turns to Dan. “Phil says you’re good with any pizza topping, is that true?”

Dan nods. “Yeah, I’m easy.” It’s not _really_ true, but he’d eat a whole can of anchovies before he went out of his way to inconvenience someone who’s showing him the hospitality that Martyn is tonight.

“Good, ‘cause Corny is a vegetarian and I wasn’t about to order three different pizzas.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable,” she tuts.

“Well we’re not gonna find out tonight, are we?” 

She rolls her eyes, but there’s so much fondness in the gesture that Dan can’t help being reminded of how many times a day Phil elicits that exact same reaction from him. It must be a Lester thing.

Dan wants to ask where Phil is, but Martyn seems to read his mind and says, “Phil’s using the toilet.” Then he leans over a little closer to Dan, pointing right at his neck. “I hope you’re planning to get him back for that.”

Dan is confused until he isn’t, until he remembers the way their day started, the way he begged Phil to bite harder and harder. His heart stops. He’s been walking around all day like a complete idiot flaunting what is probably a hideously conspicuous hickey. He slaps his hand over it, willing the earth to open beneath him and swallow him up so he doesn’t have to live another second in this kind of mortification.

“Martyn,” Cornelia says, voice sharper now, elbowing him in the ribs. 

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused. “Am I supposed to pretend I don’t know?”

“Yes, idiot. You are.” She looks at Dan. “I’m sorry, Dan.”

Dan just stands there. He can feel how hot his cheeks are, and can only imagine how stupid and splotchy they look. 

He knew they knew, but now he _knows_. It’s out in the open and he’s never felt so exposed in life and he doesn’t know what to say or how to act. He looks down at his feet, disappointed by the absence of a gaping black hole ready to suck him down into oblivion. 

Then Martyn kind of gently slaps him on the back. “Look, mate. Sorry I made it awkward, I really didn’t think it was a big deal. I’ve been seeing the two of you flirt on Twitter for ages.”

Cornelia touches his back too, rubbing his shoulder blade through his shirt. She doesn’t say anything, but it makes him feel like it might be alright. Like maybe the world won’t stop turning just because they know what he and Phil are to each other. He looks up just in time to see Phil walk into the kitchen with a confused look on his face.

Dan’s whole body feels shaky, but he smiles. “Apparently I owe you a hickey.”

-

Over the next few hours, he comes to feel glad that he doesn’t have to guard the smiles he sends in Phil’s direction. He can put his hand on Phil’s leg or lean into Phil’s space and not wonder if it looks too gay to be friendly, and it makes him feel the same kind of giddy freedom he felt on the steps of city hall in Lisbon, when a crowd of people cheered for his and Phil’s first kiss as married men. He’s just… happy.

And drunk. Cornelia’s margaritas are delicious in their simplicity, strong and sour, and before Dan knows it he’s drunk enough of them that any lingering fear is all but forgotten.

They drink. They eat pizza. Cornelia picks up the instrument that Dan has learned is called an omnichord and plays it while she sings. Dan rests his head on Phil’s shoulder, leaning his weight against Phil’s chest: He closes his eyes and listens to the pretty music she makes until Phil is gently shaking him awake and telling him it’s time for bed.

Dan rubs his eyes blearily, then looks over to the front door in time to wave goodbye to Martyn and Cornelia, who are, for some reason, despite it being Martyn’s flat, on their way out. 

“Don’t forget, mate,” Martyn says to Dan. “Get him back.” He winks and shuts the door behind him and Dan buries his face in Phil’s shirt.

Phil’s arm is already draped around the back of Dan’s neck, and he leans down to kiss Dan’s hair. 

“Where’re they going?” Dan croaks.

“To Corn’s. They wanted to give us privacy.”

Dan groans. “God. I’m gonna die of cringing.”

“Why?” Phil murmurs, pushing Dan’s hair off his forehead and kissing there too. “I think it’s nice.”

“I forgot about the hickey. Why didn’t you remind me about the bloody hickey? I couldn’t see it, but you could.” He has a horrible thought, then. “Those fans who wanted a photo. They probably saw it.”

“Who cares?” Phil says, so unbothered that Dan can’t help feeling relieved. “If they did, they did. They can’t prove who gave it to you.”

Dan lifts his head up to look at Phil. “Yeah, I guess.” He’s still quite drunk, so he leans in and kisses Phil sloppily right on the mouth. “Maybe I hope they assume it’s from you.”

Phil grins. “Yeah?”

“I do,” Dan says. “And I don’t. But I do.”

“I know.” Phil gives him a sloppy kiss of his own. “I get it.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“M’drunk.”

Phil laughs. “I know. You drank a bunch.”

“I’m happy.” He kisses Phil again. And again. And again, longer, deeper. Wetter. He kisses Phil until he wishes he was doing more than kissing Phil. “You’re hot.”

“So are you,” Phil says, pulling Dan onto his lap. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and you’re mine.”

Dan can’t deal with that. He giggles and nuzzles his face into Phil’s neck. “No, you.”

Phil shakes his head, slipping his hands up under Dan’s shirt to touch the bare skin of his back. “You. You you you.”

“Are we gonna fuck on your brother’s sofa?” Dan mumbles against Phil’s skin.

“I hope so.”

“I might be too drunk to get hard.”

Phil gets a hand between them and cups Dan’s crotch. “Nope.”

“I’m hard?” Dan asks.

Phil laughs. “Yeah. But if you don’t know that then I think you are actually too drunk to fuck.”

“Mm,” Dan hums. “Such a gentleman.” He drags his teeth along Phil’s skin, smiling when Phil gasps quietly. “I do have to suck on your neck for a while, though. Promised Martyn I’d get you back.”

“That’s so weird,” Phil says, but he’s already moved his hands down to tug up on the bottom of Dan’s shirt. Dan lifts his arms and Phil gets the thing off impatiently, chucking it onto the floor. 

The mood shifts suddenly then. Phil is touching Dan’s stomach and his chest and looking at him like he’s something important. Like he’s someone special. 

“I’m glad they know,” Phil says. His voice is so deep and quiet and fierce. “I want everyone to know.”

The prospect has never not been scary to Dan, but he can’t feel that right now. Right now all he feels is the pride that radiates off Phil as he touches Dan’s skin and tells him how much it means, this thing between them, this life they’re making together. He grabs Phil’s left hand and pulls the ring off his thumb to relocate it to where it belongs. Then he kisses the smooth white skin beneath the cool gold band. “We’ll tell everyone.”

“Someday,” Phil says, pulling Dan close and pressing a kiss right to the middle of his chest.

“I mean it,” Dan says, because in this moment he does. He’s meant it in every moment, and a little more every time. He won’t go backwards with Phil. He won’t; he can’t. 

“I know,” Phil whispers. “I know you do. And I can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even more thanks than usual to mandy for this chapter. literally could not do it without you. thanks also to zan for always being supportive and to andrea for the encouragement and beautiful moodboard(s).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[fanmix] ‘til death](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737691) by [calvinahobbes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes)




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